


Swells: A Salute to Easter Parade

by mvernet, Spencer5460



Category: Starsky & Hutch, The Streets of San Francisco
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Bisexuality, Coming out of the Closet, Crossover, Easter, Flower fetish, M/M, Old Fashioned Romance, Outside Canon, Player piano, Serial Killer, Song Lyrics, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-08 14:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spencer5460/pseuds/Spencer5460
Summary: When the object of Ken Hutchinson's affection suddenly walks out, he insists anyone can take his place. Even army vet and part-time bouncer, Dave Starsky.  But with Starsky, Hutch gets more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original story by Frances Goodrich, Albert Hackett
> 
> Featuring the songs of Irving Berlin

_In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,_  
_You’ll be the grandest fella in the Easter parade._  
_I’ll be all in clover and when they look you over,_  
_I’ll be the proudest fella in the Easter parade._  
_On the avenue, Fifth Avenue, the photographers will snap us,_  
_And you’ll find that you’re in the Rotogravure._  
_Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet,_  
_And of the one I’m taking to the Easter parade._

**CHAPTER ONE**

His hair was stunning. It was the most beautiful head of hair he’d ever seen on a man. It was dark and luxurious and practically billowed when he ran. Hutch fought the urge daily to just reach up and run his hands through it. He wondered if it felt as sumptuous as it looked. 

Hutch mentally shook himself as he stood in the doorway of the squad room admiring his partner, Steve Keller, from across the room. Steve was on the phone, his head cocked slightly as he listened to the speaker on the other end, a thick lock of hair drifting over his hand and onto the handset he gripped.

Of course it wasn’t just Steve’s hair Hutch admired. It was also his intelligence. His suavity and sophistication. Steve was easily one of the most talented detectives in the city. Hutch was lucky to be paired with him. They were a winning team. 

And then there was the way Steve filled out those slate-gray slacks . . . 

Hutch gripped the stuffed bunny tighter in his hand and brought his thoughts to heel. While Hutch was thoroughly attracted to Steve, Steve didn’t feel the same. They were birds of totally different feathers. And Hutch knew it had to stay that way. A man being attracted to another man the way Hutch was to Steve was totally unacceptable. If anyone knew his true feelings, no one would ever want to be partnered with him. 

Hutch swallowed and willed the tightening in his pants to relax. He waited until Steve set the phone back into the cradle before he approached.

“Whatcha got there, Hutch? An Easter bunny?” Steve smiled with beautiful white teeth. He didn’t miss a trick.

“It . . . it’s for you.” Hutch stumbled over his words, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. He knew it was a stupid gift for one man to give another, but it had looked so irresistible sitting in the toy store window. 

Easter was only a week away and the whole city seemed buried in chicks and bunnies and chocolate. He had no one to buy for except, maybe, the someone he worked with every day. He was a damned fool.

“For me?” Steve laughed but he didn't sound amused. 

“Sure. I thought you could use it as a good luck charm. Instead of a rabbit’s foot, it’s the whole bunny. Get it?” Hutch babbled as he held out the fluffy toy. Its plastic eyes seemed to beg for attention.

Steve’s gorgeous face clouded over as he looked at it. “I appreciate that, pal. But, well, I got some news for you that I might as well tell you now.” 

His eyes returned to Hutch’s, seeming to gauge his response. “I put in a transfer to San Francisco and it's been approved. That was the lieutenant on the phone – Mike Stone.”

Funny how the name matched the way Hutch’s heart sank – like a stone. The bunny dropped from his hand onto the desk he and Steve shared. Make that, had shared up until this moment. 

“But why would you do that?” Hutch asked, trying to keep the disappointment sounding merely professional, not personal.

“Hutch, look. You’ve been a great partner and all. But I get the feeling you want something more from me than I can give.” Steve paused and cleared his throat. His eyes darted around the office. “I just don’t swing that way. I think it’s best we go our separate ways.” 

Hutch felt his face redden. Apparently, his feelings had been more obvious that he’d thought. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “You don’t need to leave. We’re the best team in the department.” 

He wondered how many others knew of his inappropriate feelings and cursed himself for sounding too much like groveling.

“Let’s just not make this any more uncomfortable than it has to be.” Steve put his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. Hutch was surprised Steve wasn’t afraid it would burst into flames. “See ya round.” 

Then Steve dropped his hand, pivoted and walked away. He looked just as fine going as he did coming. Then just like that, it was over. Hutch looked down at his desk where the bunny lay. He couldn't decide what was more pathetic.

ooOOoo

Hutch escaped to his favorite hideaway to soothe his sorrows as soon as he was able. A cozy hole in the wall called Huggy’s Bar. It was run by Huggy Bear Brown, a lanky black man who was as friendly as he was colorful. Huggy somehow made everyone who came to his place feel comfortable no matter how awkward they felt on the outside. Maybe it was because Huggy knew all about being an outsider. 

Hutch had never told Huggy how he felt about men. About Steve. Somehow he didn’t think he needed to explain it. Huggy was a master at reading people. He supposed that's why he felt comfortable here. 

After more than a few tall cold ones, Hutch found himself spilling his guts to his friend. He no longer cared how easily Huggy could read between the lines. 

“Steve walked out me, Hug. I guess I made him feel uncomfortable.” Hutch put an ugly emphasis on the last word. He tilted his head back to finish off his beer then practically slammed it down on the counter. 

Huggy grimaced. He didn’t need another broken glass - or friend. 

“Who does he think he is, anyway? I don’t need Steve, Hug. I don’t need anyone. Steve always thought he knew everything. Had all the answers tied up in a bow. He’s not any better than me. I’ll go solo. I don’t need anybody. I’m the best goddamn detective this lousy town ever saw.”

Hutch was rambling but Huggy empathized with him. Huggy knew how hard it was to prove himself as a Bay City business owner and being both black and gay. But Hutch was a cop and still in the closet, walking that painful line between what he was and what he wanted. What everyone wanted. Love. 

“Well, no man is an island, my blond brother,” he patted Hutch’s hand that had stuck to the chilled glass. “Especially in that messy business of yours. You need someone to watch your back. Someone you can trust. I don’t want that pretty head of yours to end up on the slab.”

Hutch just brushed him away. He practically fell from the bar stool and stumbled over to the vintage player piano that sat in the corner. Huggy had bought the piano with the idea of renovating it, but buying a new pinball machine had pushed the idea to the back of his mind. For now Hutch was the only one who sought out the relic, especially when he was three sheets to the wind, like tonight. 

Huggy’s new bouncer, David Starsky, came to stand beside Huggy. A few years out of the army and the Bay City policy academy, Starsky had taken a night job at Huggy’s while he walked a beat during the day, waiting for a detective spot to open up. A position that seemed overdue in coming.

Starsky had been keeping an eye on the cop ever since he’d walked in. The tall blond was a storm brewing. He’d noticed Hutch around the station, too. His blond hair, blue eyes and sharp suits were hard to miss in a sea of uniform drab. He'd also noticed how close he'd kept to his good-looking partner, Steve Keller. Almost too close. But then he'd heard Keller shipped out that afternoon to San Francisco.

Starsky had heard Hutch and Keller were practically the best team of detectives Bay City had ever had. A real Holmes and Watson they were called. And with a relationship that was just as much of a mystery. The rumors about Steve leaving for “personal” reasons, he thought best to ignore. 

“Huggy? Ya think Blondie there is gonna cause trouble?” He asked.

Huggy shrugged. “We’ve been friends a long time. He doesn’t usually tie one on, but he’s nursin’ a broken heart. He’s usually pretty quiet. You only gotta watch him when he starts to sing.”

They both watched as Hutch tested a few keys with unsteady fingers then started in on an inebriated version of a tune.

_I was born in Duluth, Minn.,_  
_and I wish and wish again_  
_that I was back in the town where I was born._  
_There’s a farm in Duluth, Minn,_  
_and I'd like to fish again,_  
_in the river that flows beside the field of waving corn._

Huggy put his hands over his soulful brown eyes. Hutch was just gearing up. 

_A lonesome soul am I...here's the reason why._

Hutch stopped for a moment and looked around as if he had forgotten where he was. A dreamy look passed over his face as he belted out the chorus. 

_I want to go back, I want to go back,_  
_I want to go back to the farm._  
_Far away from harm, with a milk pail on my arm._  
_I miss the rooster, the one that use-ter wake me up at 4 am._  
_I think your great big city’s very pretty...nevertheless._

“Hey! Farmboy! Good idea. Why don’t you just leave…and save all our ears,” a customer shouted across the crowded room. 

Hutch slowly put both palms on the keyboard and began to push himself up but Starsky quickly moved to intervene, putting up a hand. “I got this. I got this. No problem, sir.” 

__Starsky didn’t find Hutch’s antics amusing any more. He might not be a fancy pants detective, but Starsky still believed in keeping the peace. He hadn’t served in Vietnam for nothing. Paradoxically, he'd learned that peace was the only thing worth fighting for. Peace, and love along with it. He sensed the melancholy songbird was about to cause even more of a scene. Not only was it behavior unbecoming a police detective, Starsky knew Hutch was a trained fighter and that he was armed._ _

__But so was Starsky._ _

“Detective Hutchinson?” Hutch looked up to see curly brown hair, deep blue eyes, and a sleek toned chest under a black tee and jeans so tight they should be illegal. He thought he was having a vision and blinked heavily. Damn. This man didn’t look anything like the dapper Steve Keller but he definitely had charisma. And Hutch was having the strangest reaction to him. A nearly animal attraction. 

_Get a grip, Hutchinson. You’re not thinking straight._

“Yesh… Yes, that’s me.” Hutch tried to point at himself and almost poked his eye out. 

“Detective Hutchinson. I think that’s enough singin’ and drinkin’ for one little detective tonight. Why don’t you come with me and Huggy will get you some coffee.” 

__Starsky moved to take his arm and help him stand when Hutch saw the gun in Starsky’s shoulder holster. Hutch stood abruptly and fumbled for his own._ _

__The next thing Hutch knew he was on the beer-slicked floor with both hands behind his back, the heavy weight of Starsky’s muscled body pinning him down._ _

__“Now, now Detective. You don’t want me to call your Captain… uh… Dobey isn’t it? You don’t want me to call Captain Dobey to pick you up do you?”_ _

__Hutch tried once to throw the man off but when he was unable, he stilled in defeat, as well as with a slight amount of admiration. It wasn’t anyone who could take down Ken Hutchinson, even if he was not in his right mind._ _

__“Who the hell are you, hot shot?” he mumbled into the floor._ _

__Starsky leaned down and whispered in his ear. ”Officer David Starsky. A brother cop moonlightin’ as Huggy’s bouncer. Right now you are a disgrace to your badge, Detective. Are ya gonna be a good boy and behave yourself if I let you up?”_ _

__Against the floorboards Hutch’s face burned. A rookie had called him out and found him lacking. Plus this Adonis in blue jeans was starting to turn him on. Hutch moaned._ _

__“I take that as a yes. Up ya go.”_ _

__Starsky grabbed Hutch under his arms and pulled him up off the ground with a grunt. Although Hutch had a few inches on the bouncer, Starsky managed him handily. Hutch swayed into him and Starsky caught and steadied him, his touch more gentle now._ _

__When Hutch was back on his feet he found Huggy looking him straight in the eye. He fought the urge to look away. Hutch always got the distinct impression Huggy saw right through him._ _

__Starsky looked from one to the other of them, then brushed at his jeans and sauntered away in disgust._ _

__“What was that you were sayin’ about takin’ on a rookie and makin’ him into the best detective on the force - besides you that is?” Huggy asked innocently._ _

__“Yeah, yeah. Sure I could.” Even plastered, or maybe because he was, Hutch wasn’t about to turn down a challenge._ _

__“Well then how about takin’ on my boy Starsky, here. He’s been tryin’ to get into homicide for months but he’s been stuck walking a beat.”_ _

__“You’re kidding, right?” Hutch watched as Starsky walked away and was reminded of a jungle cat. “He belongs in a street brawl, not at a detective’s desk.”_ _

__Huggy threw up his hands and turned to walk away. “You’re the one who said anyone could replace Steve.”_ _

Hutch took a second look at Starsky was leaning against the bar with one hip thrust out provocatively as he conversed with the attractive bartender. Hutch’s numbed lips suddenly tingled. _Steve who?_

__“You’re on,” he said before he’d realized it._ _

__Huggy gave a big, toothy grin. “I’ll take that bet, my brother from another mother.”_ _

__Hutch sighed and put his hands to his head. “Yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing his temples. “He’ll do.”_ _

__Maybe if he hadn’t been so inebriated, Hutch would have noticed that Starsky had padded up behind them, a fresh pot of coffee in his hands that was obviously meant for him._ _

__“Who’ll do what, Detective?”_ _

TO BE CONTINUED . . . .


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later Hutch was back at Huggy’s. When Starsky saw him walk through the door he stiffened. But today Hutch was back in control. The picture of professionalism and restraint in conservative yet stylish slacks and sport coat. He walked directly up to Starsky with long-legged grace.

“Dave Starsky, isn’t it?” Hutch asked.

“Yeah. Just Starsky will do,” Starsky replied warily. 

“I want to apologize for my antics a few nights ago. I was, uh, going through a rough bout.”

“So I’d heard.” Starsky tried to look bored but something about the tall, cool blond made him feel itchy. He rarely had the opportunity to brush up so close to ‘high society’.

Hutch cleared his throat, sounding almost nervous. “It’s no secret that my partner, Steve Keller, has moved on to a different precinct. San Francisco to be exact. And I, well, I find myself working solo.”

“That’s the breaks.” Starsky started to move away, feeling more sympathy for the man than he wanted to admit.

“Wait.” Hutch laid a hand on his arm and when Starsky gave it a dark look, he quickly pulled it away. “Huggy told me you’ve been trying to move up to homicide detective.”

When Starsky stayed mum, Hutch continued. “Look, I talked to Captain Dobey and he said that under the circumstances, he’d let me bring you on to train with me.”

Now he had Starsky’s full attention. Starsky couldn’t be sure he heard him right, though, above the rising noise of the bar. “What did you say?” He asked. 

“I said I can get you a shot at being a homicide detective if you want it.” Hutch said a little louder.

Starsky felt like he’d been hit with a stun gun. “You’d do that for me?” 

The smile growing on Starsky’s face affected Hutch more than he would have thought possible, being as they were practically strangers. At the moment he was glad Starsky knew nothing of the bet. 

“Sure. I need a partner, you want a job. Simple as that. What do you say?”

“I say I better go tell Huggy to find himself a new bouncer!” Starsky grinned.

Hutch inwardly groaned at that. What would Steve say if he knew Hutch’s new partner was a beat cop and part-time bouncer. He looked the man up and down once more as he went off to find Huggy, taking in his worn jeans and baggy windbreaker. But then remembered the muscles he’d felt underneath. Maybe he could make something of this guy after all if Starsky would just follow his lead. 

And if Hutch could keep his mind on his work. 

ooOOoo

On Easter Sunday Starsky stood in front of the bathroom mirror at his Uncle’s, staring at his wild curls. He smiled crookedly as he thought how he’d look in an Easter bonnet - the outrageous kind he remembered from the Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue back in New York. 

He was about to go on duty at an Easter Parade, but this wasn’t New York. He’d left the old neighborhood - and the war - far behind. He was determined to move beyond his past. This was Bay City and Detective Hutchinson was picking him up in ten minutes. 

He couldn’t believe his luck. Detective Hutchinson had apparently seen something in him that no one else at the Precinct had - detective potential. If all went well, by next Easter he’d be ready to take the departmental exam and all his career dreams would come true. Until now, no one else had been willing to take such a chance on him.

Starsky’s heart was so full of gratitude to the blond detective, he could hardly breath. At least he hoped it was just gratitude and nothing more. He tried to push from his mind the tingling that had heated his groin when he had Hutch pinned to the ground the first night they’d officially met. 

His smile turned into a grimace as he examined his face more closely. He’d worked crowd control before, but this time he wasn’t on the street, he was a rookie detective. He’d been so excited, he’d cut himself shaving and the small bit of tissue pressed to his chin made him look like he was sixteen, about to go on his first date.

A car beeped outside and Starsky dove to the window. A dilapidated, faded blue 1965 Ford Galaxie convertible, big enough to be a parade float - if they allowed hunks of rolling garbage to participate - sat at the curb. If he hadn’t recognized the windswept blond hair on the man behind the wheel, he might have called the precinct to report an eyesore.

Starsky took one last look at himself and brushed off the purple plaid shirt he’d pulled on over his tee and jeans. He didn’t own a suit and tie and couldn’t wear his starched uniform. But he was a plainclothes rookie now. But his plain clothes were a whole lot different from Hutch’s.

The beep sounded again and Starsky snagged a bulging bag of Easter candy from the kitchen counter as he headed towards the door. Easter was not exactly his thing, being raised in a Jewish household, but he could get behind any holiday that celebrated with it’s own candy.

ooOOoo

Plenty of uniforms were visible up and down the parade route, most having volunteered to work so their brother cops with families could enjoy the holiday. 

“It may feel like we’re just superfluous with all these other beat cops to handle the typical stuff, but if anything big goes down, we would be the ones called to handle it,” Hutch explained as they sat in the convertible watching the Easter Parade. “You have to keep that edge, ready to take command at a moment's notice…”

Starsky popped a third marshmallow peep in his mouth and looked at Hutch above the yellow sugar dusting his fingers. Hutch was looking in the rear view mirror to adjust his wide lavender tie that coordinated with his crisp white shirt and light gray jacket. 

“Ummm… got ya, Detective. Ready to take charge.” He swallowed the chick quickly and licked his fingers.

Hutch shook his head and cleared his throat. Starsky had a lot to learn, but he sure made those peeps look delicious. 

“Look, Starsky. The public sees a uniform as a symbol. Hopefully a symbol of authority. A uniform evokes feelings of safety and protection to the public so they can go about their lives in peace. It’s the plain clothes detectives like us, though, who are the backbone of the department. We watch unobserved, yet ever vigilant. Ready to rush in at a moment’s notice.”

Starsky stared at Hutch letting his pretentious words drift over his head. The hyacinth scented spring breeze was doing incredible things to Hutch’s blond hair.

“So don’t call me Detective. Call me Hutch.”

Starsky lit up at at the friendly invitation. “Oh, sure Hutch. I get ya. Hey! I got ya somethin’.” 

Starsky stuck his tongue out as he rummaged through what was left of his bag of candy. When he found what he was looking for he held it up triumphantly. 

“Here!” 

Hutch looked at Starsky’s offering - a brightly colored cardboard box with a clear plastic front. Orange lettering on the package declared that Inside was a chocolate Easter Bunny appropriately named Carrot Cop. The bunny had googley candy eyes and was dressed in a cop’s uniform.

Hutch flashbacked to the bunny he had offered Steve a week ago. He’d been hesitant and embarrassed at the time. And rightly so as he’d learned Steve was not inclined to appreciate the warm gesture from his long-time partner. Starsky showed no such hesitation, even though they barely knew each other. Starsky’s expression was almost childlike and innocent. Not at all like the tough cop he knew was underneath. 

Hutch’s brow creased when he realized how easily he could crush his new partner’s enthusiasm. The kind of enthusiasm that Hutch lost somewhere along the way. He suddenly envied him. 

“The Easter Bunny always left me one of these on Easter morning back in Duluth, didn’t think he could find me here in Bay City.” Hutch looked into Starsky’s bright eyes and said, “Thanks, partner.”

Starsky’s grin lit up the parade route. “Anytime, Hutch.”

Hutch sat up stiffly then as he noted a break in the parade. “The gay pride paraders are coming up. If there is any trouble with the crowd it would be now,” he stated grimly. 

Stately couples in high fashion gave way to flamboyant men in outlandish costumes. Some even sported Easter headwear. Gay rights supporters in more traditional attire proudly walked alongside their more colorfully dressed friends.

Hutch fidgeted nervously as they watched the group, but Starsky chuckled good naturedly at their antics. The most outrageous behavior didn't seem to phase him. 

“You know, Hutch, I’d walk in this gay pride thing to support a friend. I think it’s, well, kinda brave.”

“You would, huh?” Hutch found a smile at the thought of Starsky in his skin tight jeans sashaying down the street along with the gay crowd. He could envision him practically having his own following. 

“These kind of people don’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

“Nah. Love is a beautiful thing. There’s enough ugly in this world. Believe me, I’ve seen enough of it to know. The way I figure it, we should take the good stuff anywhere we find it.”

Hutch let go the breath he’d been holding. Starsky’s comments reassured him but also made him curious as to exactly what it was he’d seen. “Would you wear a bonnet like that?” Hutch pointed to a man in a hat that looked like a flower shop had exploded and landed on his head.

Starsky shrugged. “Hypothetically? I think I would, to support someone I loved.” 

Hutch studied his profile as he wondered what else Starsky might to capable of doing for someone he loved. Bravery came in all different shapes and sizes. 

ooOOoo

Starsky was up bright and early again the next day- nearly miraculous for a Monday - getting his caffeine fix and bouncing in place as he waited for Hutch. He had never felt so good about going into work. The parade was interesting, but he couldn't wait to sink his teeth into some real detective work.

When Hutch pulled up and called out, “Morning,” Starsky practically fell out the screen door. "Looks like it might rain," Hutch said with a look toward the skies. As Starsky opened the passenger side door left-handed, trying not to spill the coffee in his right, Hutch hit the button that automatically closed his convertible top,. Starsky cringed at a horrible screeching noise coming from the car top mechanism.

“Shit, it’s stuck again. Give me a hand Starsky, I’ll have to pull it up manually.”

Starsky shook his head in wonder how Hutch could look so fine, yet drive such an old rust bucket of a car. As soon as he had the money, he knew what kind of car he’d get. Something bright and flashy - unobtrusiveness be damned. He carefully placed his favorite Snoopy coffee mug on the massive dash and got on his knees next to Hutch to help.

Hutch was dressed in a dark blue suit with a silky, baby blue tie that matched his eyes. In his everyday jeans, tee and his dark blue windbreaker, Starsky felt like a slob by comparison. He gazed with admiration at that tie as it flopped back and forth while Hutch battled his recalcitrant car top. 

Starsky gave the top one last yank with all his strength and it slid into place, throwing Hutch off balance. He hit Starsky’s mug with his hand and Snoopy spilled his dark contents all over that gorgeous tie.

“Oh! Jeez! Hutch, I’m so sorry, I ruined your tie, man,” Starsky spouted, mortified. “I… I’ll get it dry cleaned for ya… or replace it…”

The sincere remorse in Starsky’s voice checked Hutch’s irritation at having his favorite tie ruined. Something twisted in his gut, causing him to sooth rather than chastise the nervous man. 

“Don’t worry about it Starsky. I can pick up a new one today. I’ll just add it to my expense account. Hazards of the job.”

“You can do that?”

“Sure, you can add anything you want to the forms as long as you word it right. You might not get everything approved, but the ladies down in claims can be very… obliging.” Hutch wagged his eyebrows, suddenly curious to see how the added enticement might affect his new partner.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” Starsky responded.

“Don’t worry. Besides, today’s lesson, my boy, is how to dress for success.” He gave a meaningful look at Starsky’s windbreaker and jeans. “Those clothes might be okay when handling drunks and loud-mouths at Huggy’s, but detectives have to look sharp.”

Starsky felt his face burn. “Maybe when I get my next paycheck, I’ll pick up something more appropriate.”

“How about I help you,” Hutch volunteered as he shifted the car into drive.

Starsky sunk into his seat as Hutch pulled out onto the street. He didn’t like the sound of that. Although he had to admit Hutch could fill out a suit, Starsky wasn’t sure that look would do the same for him.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	3. Chapter 3

“Whadda ya think of this, Hutch?” Starsky bounced out of the dressing room of St. James Menswear to show off his find - a soft brown corduroy jacket with natural leather collar and buttons.

Hutch reminded himself to breathe. Starsky’s overgrown curls were tucked under the flipped up leather collar. Hutch had to stop himself from reaching out to straighten the collar. He imagined how a lock might wrap around his fingers if he did and…

“No. No. It’s nice Starsky - if you were going to the malt shop with your favorite girl. But it’s not the image we are going for here. You want something jazzy. Classic but not too stodgy.” 

Hutch pulled the offending jacket from Starsky’s shoulders and added it to the pile of rejects that included a black leather number that had made Hutch nearly hyperventilate when Starsky had strutted around the room in it. 

Dressing David Starsky was definitely a challenge. But it had certain pleasures, too.

“Try this.” Hutch helped Starsky into a charcoal gray suit jacket, enjoying the excuse to stand close enough to him breath in the scent of citrus and milk chocolate he was wearing. He couldn’t quite decide if it was Starsky’s cologne or his breakfast. Either way, it was quite inviting. 

The suit jacket made Starsky feel… awkward. On the other hand, Hutch’s intimate motions of helping him dress made him feel… good. 

“There, that’s it. Sharp. Screams authority.” Hutch brushed nonexistent lint from the lapels.

“Yeah, it makes me wanna scream somethin’,” Starsky mumbled.

Forty-five minutes later they walked out of the shop with Starsky wearing the charcoal gray jacket with all the accoutrements. They had left two other suits, a dark blue and a black to be altered. Packages full of button down shirts, ties, socks, belts, handkerchiefs, shoes and one replacement baby blue tie were piled into the trunk of the Galaxie. 

Hutch had discretely handed over his credit card to the all-seeing sales clerk, knowing that this much padding would never slip by the ladies in claims. What Starsky didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Hutch had assured him it was for the good of the job.

ooOOoo

The next stop on the makeover express was Hutch’s hair dresser, Jae. Starsky had only agreed because he hadn’t had a trim in quite a while. His unruly mop had definitely moved to the overgrown side of the road. 

The first thing Starsky noticed as he entered the shop was the scent of burning white sage mixed with a touch of herbal shampoo and hair dye. The next was two men - one dressed in a red silk kimono - hovering over a Ouija board.

Hutch went over to lean in between the two men and whisper, “What are the spirits saying today, boys?”

The one in the red kimono frowned and shook his head. “Not a peep, Hutch. I think the Aquarius moon is keeping them quiet.”

The other man held out his hand which Hutch accepted, with a nod toward Starsky. “Alan, Jae, I want you to meet my new partner, David Starsky. Starsky, this is Jae - the best hairdresser in Bay City,” Hutch indicated the man in the kimono, “and Alan Brooks, the owner of this fine establishment.”

Alan smiled warmly and offered his hand to Starsky just as he had to Hutch.

Jae clutched Hutch’s arm, alarmed. “New partner? What’s happened to Steve?” He poor man sounded close to tears.

“I’m sorry, Jae,” Hutch paused, looking flustered. “I assumed he would have come to say goodbye before he left. He transferred to ‘Frisco.”

“What? He’s gone? He took that wonderful head of hair and fled? Like a thief in the night? His hair was my crowning achievement, my opus, the thing that made my life worth living! Oh, Hutch!”

Hutch put an arm around the bereaved hairdresser and patted his back. “I know, Jae. I know. But I brought you Starsky, here.”

At that, Jae sniffed and looked up. His eyes widened as he admired at Starsky’s glorious head of cinnamon curls. Like a cornered tiger, Starsky made a quick check of all possible exits.

“Oh, my, my, my. Aren’t you a beauty, all natural and curly. Oh, yes. I can do something with you!” Jae took Starsky by the arm and pushed him into the salon chair before he could escape. Then Jae began to run his fingers through Starsky’s hair as if Jae were searching for gold in a river of waves. 

Starsky gripped the arms as though he'd been strapped into an electric chair and looked to Hutch who had leaned against the hair product-laden counter, his arms and ankles crossed nonchalantly.

“Don’t worry, partner. He hasn’t lost a customer yet.”

Over an hour later, Starsky looked into the mirror Jae proudly held up and gasped at the transformation. His riot of curls had been tamed into sophisticated waves. Along with the suit coat and tie, the new hairstyle made him look like a completely different person. As a matter of fact he looked a lot like - Steve Keller. 

Starsky turned a glare on Hutch who was talking happily with Jae.

“Son of a bitch.” Starsky pulled off the plastic cover-up with an angry snap and stormed out the door of the salon, his new hairstyle ruffling in the breeze.

ooOOoo

Starsky sat in the passenger side of the Galaxie with arms crossed, his eyes glued to the pavement in an effort to hide his disillusionment and anger. Hutch may have given his career a boost by picking him for his new partner, but he’d been an idiot thinking it was because he saw potential in him. Hutch wanted a clay pigeon he could mold into his own image - or more accurately, the image of his old partner, Steve. 

Starsky sighed. Still, it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up, even if all he really wanted to do right now was take that egotistical, smug, college boy sitting next to him and beat the livin’ shit…

“Awfully quiet over there, Starsky. Is something wrong?”

Starsky took one last look at a street crossing sign and forced his grim frown into a fake smile. “Nope. Not a thing. What could be wrong?” He asked. 

Hutch gave him a sideways look and opened his mouth to say something else just when the radio squawked for their attention. Starsky hesitantly reached for the handset, then looked to Hutch.

“Go for it, partner. You know our call …” Hutch flinched as a painful memory flashed through his mind.

Starsky pressed the call button. “Zebra Three, here.”

“211 in progress,” a woman’s voice announced clearly and efficiently. “Silent alarm. Greenwood convenience store. 1550 Ganson. Repeat. I550 Ganson.”

Hutch increased his speed as he nodded.

Starsky nodded back. “We’re on it. ETA…” he looked over at Hutch who held up four fingers. “Four minutes," Starsky responded. "Zebra Three out.”

Starsky grabbed the Mars light, but stopped just before hitting the siren. 

“What are you waiting for?” Hutch asked. “You aren’t having any seconds thoughts are you?”

Starsky shook his head. “Hutch, I know the set-up at that store. I used to stop in there pretty regular. The owner - a nice old guy named Saul - sold me a winning lottery ticket once.”

“Saul’s alarm system used to a cowbell on the door and a fat old dog," Starsky explained. "But he’s got this nerdy kid workin’ for him now who is into electronic gadgets. He must have installed the alarm system. The perps probably weren't countin' on that. They might have no idea an alarm’s been tripped. If we go in silent we might be able to take 'em by surprise. Save anybody else gettin' hurt.” 

Hutch shrugged. “Hunch, huh? Okay, Starsky, we’ll try it your way.”

A burst of adrenaline went right to Starsky’s brain as the huge motor of Hutch's old crate responded with a surprising burst of speed to carry them to their destination. The calls he’d taken as a beat cop had been more along the lines of stolen bicycles or barking dogs. He’d never before been first on the scene to a robbery in progress, especially as a plain clothes detective. 

Hutch pulled up to the curb a block away from the store and Starsky reached for the door handle and his gun. Hutch stopped him. “Wait here. Call for backup. Give me three minutes, then come in around back.”

Starsky didn’t like the idea of Hutch going in alone, but one look in those normally serene blue eyes that had now turned implacable, and he knew no argument would sway him.

Starsky watched Hutch enter the store as if he were just another customer, then glanced at his watch. After two minutes he slipped from the car and headed down the dirty alley filled with soggy boxes and garbage. He opened the back door carefully, standing slightly to one side. When he cleared the doorway he raised his gun and followed the sound of agitated voices coming from the front of the store. 

Starsky could make out at least two perps. One seemed to be trying to douse the smoldering powder keg of the other with a measure of reason. 

"Come 'on Dean. All we wanted was a couple of bucks. Let's not let things get out of hand."

"I should have figured you'd chicken out," the hothead spouted back.

Starsky cautiously crept closer until he could make out the shadows of the two punks. One of them was wielding a rusty fishing knife, handy for pulling out a fish hook, but at least it wasn't loaded. He quickly observed what Hutch already had, that the perps were just kids, more unnerved than their victim behind the counter. But that only made them more unpredictable. 

Starsky’s moved a few inches over so he could see Hutch standing with his hands raised in an open, non-threatening gesture and caught his partner’s words to the would-be robbers. “Why don’t you two boys just put away the knife, take the cash and run. This old geezer isn’t going to come after you. Besides, I just bought this tie and don’t want to wrinkle it.” 

Starsky had to hand it to him. He had a lot of nerve underneath his dapper exterior. Hutch slowly reached down to wiggle his tie to emphasize his point. Like a magician's sleight of hand trick, both inexperienced thugs were distracted by the motion. 

Starsky, however, was not. He’d caught his partner's eye and nearly imperceptible nod from across the room. It was as if Hutch had nearly shouted directions to him. 

Starsky jumped out, legs planted wide and gun raised. “Police! Freeze!”

At the same time, Hutch ran to the old man’s side, pushing him under the counter. 

Thug One dropped his knife in surprise. Thug Two ran to the exit, Thug One close at his heels.

Starsky holstered his gun with a curse and ran after the boys, but Hutch was held back by the grateful but untimely hug of the owner. Just then a black and white unit arrived and Hutch cursed as he was delayed yet again as he filled in the uniforms. He shouted orders for one to secure the scene and the other to follow him. 

Precious moments later Hutch took off at a run, the older of the two uniforms behind him. He turned down the nearest alley searching for movement. His heart pounded as sudden waves of protectiveness crashed against his skull. 

Worry for his less experienced partner fought with his police training. Until he spied the smaller of the two perps handcuffed to a fire escape. He couldn’t help but smile briefly as he ran up to the punk and grabbed his jacket. “Which way?”

The boy cringed and tossed his head to the right. Hutch waved and pointed his orders to the uniform who was just now catching up to him. Hutch sprinted ahead again. He turned right and at the far end of an empty lot saw two figures in front of a chain link fence, one prone and one sitting on the ground leaning wearily against the fence. 

Hutch let out a breathy expletive as he dashed towards them.

Thug One - who'd been the more brazen of the pair - lay face down on the littered ground. The small whimpering noises he was making sounded suspiciously like sobs. Hutch noted his hands were tied behind his back with Starsky’s brand new tie.

Sitting on the dirt next to him, Starsky had not uttered a word. Hutch holstered his gun and knelt beside him. “Starsky, buddy you okay?” 

Starsky’s shoes were gone. His socks were torn to shreds. His pristine white shirt was covered with rancid smelling stains. His jacket pocket was torn right off and his hair looked like Bozo’s on a bad day. 

Hutch frowned and looked for blood or signs of injury. Seeing none, he gently touched Starsky’s shoulder. “Buddy, tell me where you're hurt. You gotta speak to me. Do you need an ambulance?”

But Starsky just closed his eyes and turned his head away. 

“Hey,” Hutch called out to the younger officer who had just caught up to them, “Call for an ambulance, officer down! Tell them officer…” 

Starsky grabbed onto Hutch’s arm, responding at last. “No. I’m fine. Just get this asshole perp out of here. I need a minute, that’s all.” 

The young officer nodded and went to the punk, replacing Starsky’s tie with handcuffs while reading him his rights. 

Hutch watched the officer walk away with his charge then turned back to Starsky. Starsky sighed heavily as he looked to where his tie lay in a puddle of lime green goo. 

“Starsky?” Hutch clutched tighter to Starsky’s shoulder and held his breath.

“My pants are ripped,” Starsky said tonelessly.

Hutch leaned back on his heels and frowned. “What?”

“I got the first guy, no problem, except I slipped on those Italian leather soles on those fuckin’ shoes and landed in a garbage pile. Then I kicked the fuckers off to the side and took off after the other guy. He decides to go spiderman on me and climbs the fence. I pulled the sucker off but I lost a pocket and split my pants in the process. Stem to stern.”

“I ain’t parading in front of my brother cops with my ass hanging out. So just leave me here. I’ll crawl into one of these slimy boxes and call it home. If you bring me a sandwich now and then I’ll bless you.”

As Hutch’s expression turned from concern to puzzlement and then amusement at the dawning truth, Starsky had to give him a lopsided smile.

Hutch slumped on the ground next to Starsky and both men started to laugh.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	4. Chapter 4

It just wasn’t working and Hutch couldn’t figure out why. Starsky had good instincts. Maybe even better than Steve’s. And their chemistry - well, he didn’t even want to think about. It seemed off the charts. Still, every job they’d gone out on landed them flat on their asses, just like in the litter-strewn lot with the two kid gangsters.

There was something missing and damned if Hutch knew what it was. All he knew was that he was desperate to make their team work. Because if it ever did, he knew it would be something really special.

Hutch was resting his chin in his palms and staring at the jumbled words on the forms in front of him when Captain Dobey barked out his name. He jumped and looked around, hoping that no one in the office had caught him daydreaming. 

“Yeah, Captain?” Hutch answered his commanding officer.

“Come in here,” the big man ordered from the door of his office, only a few feet from Starsky and Hutch’s desks. “And bring that wannabe partner of yours.” 

Hutch swallowed guiltily as he went into the captain’s office. “I sent him out for a candy bar.”

“For a what?” Dobey roared. He’d sunk down into his chair but now half rose from it like a surly bear.

“A candy bar. He’s been under a lot of pressure and well, I thought a little sugar fix might put him at ease.”

“That’s all we need. A detective who’s at ease when we have an escaped murder suspect running loose.”

“A murder suspect? What’s up, Captain?”

“Just got off the phone with Steve Keller.” Dobey studied the notepad on the desk in front of him and fiddled with his pencil the way he did when he was about to come down with something heavy.

Hutch hoped the captain was too distracted to notice Hutch's quick intake of breath and how he held onto the guest chair in front of him at the mention of his old partner. 

“Seems that Steve and his partner, Mike Stone, finally got the drop on Emile Jardin. They found him in ‘Frisco and were bringing him in for questioning.”

Hutch recognized the name immediately. He and Keller had been after the creep for months. He was suspected in the death of at least two women. Maybe more. These were particularly violent killings, too. Done with some kind of sharp instrument or tool that the lab boys could never quite pin down. 

Hutch responded like an automaton, as if giving into emotion might cause him to short circuit. “We only have circumstantial evidence for now, so if Steve could get the collar to stick, it would definitely a feather in his hat.” 

“I said _were_. Keller and Stone were transporting Jardin to the city jail when they got run off the road,” the captain told him. “When Stone went to check the driver of the other vehicle Jardin faked that he was injured. Steve undid his cuffs to check his pulse and Jardin was able to knocke him out cold.”

“It must have been a setup because the other driver jumped Stone, too,” Dobey explained. “When Stone and Keller came to, they figured Jardin drove off with the other driver.” 

“Is Steve alright?” Hutch did his best to sound cool while his brain cells were beginning to boil. 

“Yeah, sure. They both are, but they’re lucky they didn’t get their heads blown off. Steve got off with a mild concussion. He was calling from the ER. Stone was trying to get him to stay overnight.” Dobey chuckled at the only bright spot in the event. “Sounds like Stone is even more protective of Steve than you were. I’m sure you’re glad he’s in good hands.”

Starsky had come back to the squad room and stood just outside the Captain’s office, listening to the conversation. Seeing his Hutch so flustered upon learning that his old partner had been injured suddenly made Starsky’s insides roll more than wolfing down the Mounds bar. Damned if he’d let Blondie know it though. He still had his pride, if not his image.

Starsky straightened his tie and walked in to stand beside Hutch. He resisted the urge to place a comforting hand on Hutch’s shoulder. So Keller got knocked around. At least the guy was going to be okay. It could have been a lot worse. Maybe he’d be more alert next time. 

“Sir, why the personal heads up?” Starsky interjected. “Any reason to believe this Jardin guy might be headed back to Bay City?”

Hutch was the one to answer. “Jardin’s family still has a house here. An old mission style place with a bit of property attached. He was also seeing a girl in town. You know, the kind that falls for a creep thinking they can change them.” Hutch’s head was bowed and body rigid. “Steve and I have tried talking to her but she’s as loyal as they come. Jardin might be counting on her to help him out.”

“That right. A Camille Gomez,” Dobey said, reading from the file on this desk. “It’s a long shot, but Jardin might try to get back in touch with her. So I want you to get in touch with her again.” Dobey raised an eyebrow at Hutch but he directed his orders to them both. “Find out where she went to.”

Starsky snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard that name before. I remember ‘cuz it’s so pretty. It reminded me of that old movie - Camille. If it’s the same girl, she came in one day awhile back looking for a job at Huggy’s place. Huggy felt bad ‘cuz he didn’t need another waitress at the time. If he knew her story, he’d probably feel even worse. Maybe he can give us an updated address.”

“Those are good observation skills, son.” Starsky felt a momentary surge of pride at Dobey’s praise but it quickly changed to unease when the captain turned to frown at Hutch. “Hutch, why are you still here? Fill in your sidekick then show him how to properly follow up a lead. Stone said he’d send his files on the case over in the morning.”

“Yes, Captain, right away.” Hutch answered automatically but to Starsky he still seemed in a daze, as if still processing the feelings news of his old partner revived. Starsky tugged at Hutch’s jacket and pulled him out the door. 

“And Starsky! Close the door behind you,” the Captain bellowed. 

“Sure thing, Cap.” Starsky may have pulled the door shut a little too energetically, since he could hear Dobey’s pictures rattle. 

ooOOoo

Hutch wandered over to the player piano at Huggy’s while he let Starsky interview Huggy about Camille. Starsky pulled out his official Bay City police-issued notebook and jotted down Huggy’s answers to the standard questions Starsky was required to ask.

Huggy played up to Starsky’s eager notetaking, putting on airs and jokingly spelling out the three syllable words. 

Hutch sat down on the piano bench and toyed with the keys as conversation swirled around him like fog. He then reached for one of the long black boxes of music rolls sitting on top. He blew the dust off the box and opened it. 

Hutch had helped Huggy tune the plain wooden upright and showed him how it worked the day Huggy had rolled it in the place. Hutch’s grandfather had one just like it and he had some fond memories of singing with his sister and their grandparents during holiday visits. He had learned to play on that old piano, going from chopsticks to Chopin over the years.

Huggy’s laugh and Starsky’s chiding him to be serious echoed in the background as Hutch opened the wood sliding door on the front of the piano that concealed the working parts. He attached the roll to the spinning bars and pressed the button to start the bars turning. He pumped the floor pedal with one foot as he gently guided the music roll with a light touch till it caught in just the right spot. 

The piano played one test note before a flood of slightly tinny, exuberant notes filled the air. The vintage song was sweet and sad and spoke of the heartache of first love. Hutch leaned forward and quietly sang the words that scrolled up on the pierced paper. Although the lyrics were from a simpler time, they went straight to his heart.

 _It only happens when I dance with you_  
_That trip to Heaven till the day is through_

 _With no one else do the Heavens seem quite so near_  
_Why does it happen, dear, only with you?_

 _Two cheeks together can be so divine_  
_But only when those cheeks are yours and mine_

 _I've danced with dozens of others the whole night through_  
_But the thrill that comes with Spring_  
_When anything could happen_  
_That only happens with you._

Hutch closed his eyes. Steve had moved on. He had to let him go. His new partner needed him. And Starsky deserved his full attention. Starsky was bright, eager and looked to him for guidance. Starsky was also courageous and strong-willed, yet with an endearing, almost childlike innocence. A unique combination. 

Hutch had a sudden flashback to thoughts of Starsky hurt in the vacant lot. Even though the event had turned out to be more of a comedy than a tragedy, mentoring Starsky was serious work. Hutch needed to step up and teach his partner the skills that would keep him alive. He had no business mooning after an impossible love like a teenage Romeo when lives were at stake.

“Hutch?” Starsky’s gentle voice broke through his ruminations. “I got Camille’s address. We can head over there if you want.”

The piano roll reached the end and flapped loudly as Hutch startled and grabbed for the end of the roll to stop it from tearing. Starsky leaned in close to watch the internal working of the piano. Hutch felt Starsky’s hand on his shoulder, sensed Starsky’s mouth inches from his own. Hutch froze as though spellbound when Starsky’s sweet coffee-and-cream scented breath tickled his cheek.

“Wow, Hutch. This is dynamite. Show me how it works!”

Hutch struggled to break free and quickly undid the music roll, telling Starsky to pick a different one. Hutch tried not to stutter as he gave instructions and guided Starsky’s hand.

“Now listen to the music. It will play an intro so you know the tune, then the words will appear. Sing along as best you can.”

After a few beats, Starsky began to tap his toes at the jaunty tune while Hutch leaned back, crossing his arms and continuing to pump with his foot. 

_We're a couple of swells_  
_We stop at the best hotels_  
_But we prefer the country far away from the city smells_  
_We're a couple of sports_  
_The pride of the tennis courts_  
_In June, July and August we look cute when we're dressed in shorts_

Starsky started to laugh through the words. He wound his arm around Hutch’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Hutch had sung the tune before with Huggy, so he hammed it up putting on a posh accent for the next few lines.

 _The Vanderbilts have asked us up for tea_  
_We don't know how to get there, no siree_  
_No, siree_

Hutch raised one finger like a conductor's baton to help Starsky with the timing of the chorus.

 _We would drive up the Avenue, but we haven't got the price_  
_We would skate up the Avenue, but there isn't any ice_  
_We would ride on a bicycle, but we haven't got a bike_  
_So we'll walk up the Avenue_  
_Yes, we'll walk up the Avenue_  
_And to walk up the Avenue's what we like._

The song finished with a flourish and Starsky, panting from laughter, reached for the roll at the same time as Hutch. Their fingers touched, practically intertwining. Hutch couldn’t help but glance at the fascinating curve of the mouth so close to his own. 

Starsky didn’t pull away. A tingling had started from the points where their hands had connected and had slowly spread through his body. It was almost - sexual. He hadn’t felt anything like it since his army days when his erotic experiences had been a mixed bag. But this was far stronger than anything he’d felt before. The spark couldn’t possibly have the come from the piano, since the old instrument had no electrical parts. He wondered if Hutch was feeling it, too. 

He licked his lips that had suddenly gone dry and whispered, “Hutch?” But was stopped short of saying more when Huggy interrupted them. 

“Hutch? Hutch, it’s Steve on the phone.” The electric current that had leapt between them short circuited at the mention of Hutch’s old partner’s name.

Starsky shook his head, then backed away. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Hutch,” he said with a sigh.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	5. Chapter 5

As Hutch took the phone he was filled with a disturbing mix of feelings. He was no stranger to emotional confusion. It was something he’d battled with in his youth until he finally made peace with the way he was made. He’d accepted the fact that he was attracted to men rather than women and had done his best to balance his innermost desires with the demands of the real world. But now, as he heard Steve’s voice again, thoughts tumbled one after the other, like surf-tossed shells: concern for Steve’s wellbeing, a wistful longing for the connection they once had and bitter regret for how he had messed things up.

But one emotion rose above the others - disappointment that the light in Starsky’s eyes had dimmed as he walked out of the bar. 

At the other end of the line, Steve was the smooth professional. He assured Hutch that he was fine physically and seemed especially concerned that the Jardin case remain under his jurisdiction. He asked that either he or Mike Stone be informed of any leads. “And Hutch,” Steve added. “No hard feelings, aye? “Call me if things get too hot for that bouncer to handle.”

Hutch hung up the receiver and took a seat at the bar, fuming at Steve’s condescending attitude. He needed a minute to gather his thoughts before he went out to face Starsky. 

“Gonna leave me hangin’, bro?” Huggy leaned an elbow on the bartop next to him. 

“Steve called to fill me in on what happened with Jardin. Said he just wanted to give me his ideas so far. But what I really think he wanted was to rub my nose in the fact that he’s gone big time working with the brilliant Lieutenant Stone,” said Hutch. 

“Don't tell me. Steve doesn't think much of your new partner,” Huggy said. Once again, Hutch was impressed with the way Huggy was able to see right through to the heart of people. 

“I think he doubts Starsky and my ability to close this case.” Hutch’s eyes lit up with a blaze of determination. “Which we will.”

“I don’t doubt that. Not when you get your Viking God thing goin’.”

“Huggy, he’s… Steve’s not who I… I… thought he was. I mean, he’s still a good guy and a great cop, but, he’s… he’s…”

“Not Starsky?”

Hutch froze as a puzzled frown spread across his face. “What do you mean, Hug?”

“Look, my man, I just thought you takin’ Starsky on would help the guy out. I didn’t know you were gonna try and make him into Steve - perfect hair - Keller.”

“Hug! I...I…”

Huggy held up a hand. “I hired Starsky as a bouncer because I could see he had a spark. Somethin’ inside just bustin’ to come out. That curly headed bastard has a swagger that can knock out your lights from across the room. But those eyes can convince the Easter bunny to give up his eggs. Don’t get me wrong. Steve’s got somethin’. But Steve ain’t Starsky. And Starsky ain’t Steve. Ya know what I’m sayin’?”

Hutch knew Huggy was a lot of things - a big talker, a fancy dresser, someone who wasn’t averse to taking a walk on the wild side every now and then. But he was also one of the best judges of character Hutch had ever seen. Maybe that’s why Huggy and Steve had never hit it off the way Huggy and Hutch had. Maybe he’d known all along that Steve was destined for another time and place. Someplace like the streets of San Francisco. He seemed to fit there, great hair, snappy sport coats and all. That’s where Steve Keller really shown. 

But Bay City had its own kind of light. 

Hutch sighed. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been so busy trying to make Dave Starsky into Steve Keller that I forgot who was who. And the things that make each of them special. I’ve been a dope.”

“Not a dope, Hutch. More like a little misguided. You just got so much love spillin’ out of that big blond heart of yours but you haven’t found the right place to put it yet.”

”I hope it’s not too late to fix things between us, Huggy.”

“It’s not ever too late for love, my man. Just be careful.” Huggy reached over the bar and gave Hutch’s hand a pat, his thin black fingers loaded with gaudy, oversized rings. “While you’re lettin’ Starsky be Starsky, David Starsky might not be able to handle the real Ken Hutchinson. Take it slow. I don’t want either of you turkeys gettin’ hurt.”

“Starsky sure is one of a kind.” And then he added because he knew Huggy was possibly the only person who could understand, “I...I think I could fall for him. But I can’t make the same mistake I made with Steve. Not everyone feels comfortable with, well, you know. Right now I’d be happy just to be his friend.”

Hutch set his elbows on the bar and dropped his forehead into his hands. Just because he’d accepted who - and what - he was didn't mean there were days he didn't question himself. “Sometimes I wonder why no one’s fallen for _me_.”

“It’ll happen, my brother. You only need for it to happen once if it’s the right person, ya dig?”

Hutch turned his head smiled at his good friend. He wanted to believe him. “I dig, bro.”

“But right now you got a murderer to get your hands on,” Huggy changed from confidant to coach as smoothly as a chameleon changes colors. “And I tell ya, Camille is the skittery type. One gander at a bad suit, wearin’ over-the-counter cop cologne, and she’ll run for the hills. Why don’t you let Starsky do his own thing on this case? You sit back and watch. Never underestimate the power of a fine ass in a pair of skin tight Levi's on a delicate flower like Camille.”

“Okay, Huggy. I’ll take your advice for a change. The bet is still on, right?” Hutch winked, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Huggy grinned. “Oh, yeah. The bet is still on. I ain’t no welcher.

ooOOoo

Starsky stood outside the bathroom door, fighting the urge to run off and bury his hurt, like a mongrel buries a bone. He’d only heard the last part of Hutch and Huggy’s conversation but it was enough. He didn’t need to be a seasoned detective like the great Steve Keller to know what the bet was. Hutch hadn’t taken him on because he thought he’d make a good detective. He did it as a drunken bet to prove he could turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. And all the while Hutch had been awakening feelings that Starsky hadn’t even known he had. He was a chump.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Starsky sulked in the passenger seat of the old Ford, not caring if he wrinkled his new sport coat. His usual mental pep talk about working with Hutch being a golden opportunity wasn’t flying today. He was so miffed he almost didn't notice that they’d missed the turn for Camille Gomez’s street.

“Hutch - ya shoulda taken a left back there.”

“I know that but Starsky, my boy, before we talk to Camille, we have some more shopping to do.”

That’s when Starsky lost it. “What the fuck, part-nerrr?” He sneered the word. “Quit dickin’ around! We need to go talk to that girl.”

Hutch knew Starsky had the right to be furious. But in the eye of his hurricane, Hutch smiled. Starsky’s fury, like a lightning storm, was thrilling to behold. “Temper, temper. You think you can go see Camille looking like a 1940’s gumshoe?”

Hutch pulled up to the front of Second Chance Charity Thrift Store and announced cheerily, “here we are.” He parked and killed the dieseling engine. When it quieted down he turned to Starsky who was doing a dynamite imitation of a marble statue.

The disgruntlement etched on Starsky’s face was painful to see knowing he was the one who put it there. Especially when he’d had a glimpse of the fiery soul beneath the now icy exterior. In order for their partnership to work it was time to make a change. 

“Starsky, who was the jerk who told you a detective needed to project a certain image?”

Starsky fumed. “You, ya prick! And I've tried to do everythin’ you said. But it’s not workin.”

Hutch sighed. “I know. I may have been wrong. You have your own style, your own way of doing things and I shouldn't have messed with it. So, I figure turnabout is fair play. I want you to take me shopping. In there.” Hutch pointed to the thrift shop. “Dress us to blend in with the streets maybe Camille will feel more comfortable with us. I’m in your hands.”

Starsky couldn’t help but smirk at the admission. That was quite an apology from the beautiful blond bastard. But Hutch was willing to open himself up to a new strategy. 

“Now, you’re talkin’.” Starsky pulled off his tie and threw it into the back seat where it landed with a nearly audible sigh of relief.

There was a lot more to Ken Hutchinson than met the eye, causing feelings to stir in Starsky that he thought he’d left behind in Nam. He thought he’d vanquished his attraction towards men when he’d returned to California and had sex with every willing female he came in contact with, including the stewardess on the plane. But that was just sex. Sex was meaningless without love. He knew he’d been looking for it in all the wrong places. 

He knew it in Nam when fear and loneliness sent him into the temporary shelter of his Sergeant’s arms. He knew it when he was banging any skirt that moved those first months home just because it reminded him that he was alive. But now he doubted he deserved the love he craved after all he’d done.

With Hutch he was faced with sensations as rejuvenating as a fresh spring breeze after a long, frigid winter. Yet, the roller coaster ride of emotions he put him on left him dizzy. One minute, he was mooning at the gorgeous creature who had suddenly walked into his life, the next he was ready to knock that silky blond head to the moon without its owner. If Starsky was thrown into one more curve and he might do something totally crazy.

Detective Hutchinson was not a man to indulge a fantasy spring fling with. Or a secret affair. He was a man to love. But what to do about it when Hutch was clearly enamored of someone else? Starsky felt his best line of defense was to keep his emotions under his hat.

ooOOoo

Hutch clung to the shadows of the dingy hall outside of Camille Gomez’s apartment taking in the transformation - or rather restoration of his partner to his former self. Starsky practically swaggered with comfortable confidence in a bulky white sweater with intricate Mexican designs woven in dark wool, tight jeans and a black knit hat pulled over his back to natural, curly head. 

Hutch felt a bit awkward wearing an old leather varsity jacket, but he half-smiled at the recent memory of Starsky buying it for him and saying, “This screams you, college boy.”

Starsky knocked at the door gently. “Camille? It’s Dave Starsky. I’m a friend of Huggy’s. Can we talk for a sec?”

The door cracked open as far as a security chain would allow and a fragile voice sifted through the opening. “What do you want?”

“Camille, Huggy gave me your address ‘cause he’s worried about ya.” Then, before she could shut the door, Starsky quickly continued. “It’s about your old boyfriend, Emile Jardin.” 

“What about Emile?”

Starsky and Hutch traded a look. “He got picked up by the cops in San Francisco, but he got away. ”

The door opened just wide enough for Camille to stick her head out and take a quick look up and down the hall. Seemingly satisfied that no dangers lurked, she pulled the door open further and moved aside to allow Starsky and Hutch to step inside.

Her eyes darted from one to the other of them, like a rabbit in a cage weighing the chances of escape.

Hutch shook his head, but said nothing as he followed Starsky. He and Steve had tried numerous times to approach Camille but had never gotten this close. She was definitely allergic to cops, but they didn’t look like typical uptight officers of the law.

Camille was every bit as beautiful as her name. Black shiny hair cascaded down her slender back and haunted eyes reflected a dark past as she looked at them warily. Her cop instincts must have kicked in as she saw past Hutch’s faded jacket and jeans because she suddenly asked, “You’re a cop aren’t you?” 

Hutch allowed Starsky to answer as he took stock of the rundown yet tidy surroundings. A reproduction of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers hung on the wall. There was even a fresh floral arrangement on the cracked laminate counter top. An open textbook and notebook sat on the scuffed coffee table along with a half-finished cup of coffee. 

“Yes. I am.” Starsky didn’t try to deny or make excuses. “We're detectives. This here is Detective Hutchinson,” Starsky indicated Hutch with a wave of his hand then leaned in and whispered in her ear loudly enough for Hutch to hear, “Don’t mind him. I’m trainin’ him up. He’s a little… ya know, slow.”

“My friends tell me Huggy is a good man - that he can be trusted.” Camille seemed to relax a bit at the little joke. “So why is Huggy worried about me?”

“Well, Camille,” Starsky paused and shot her a dashing smile. “That’s a beautiful name.” 

Hutch felt his heart squeeze as Camille offered a shy smile in return. The change did wonders for her careworn face.

“We think maybe he might be headin’ back here. What do you think?” Starsky asked her.

Camille’s answer came a little too quickly. “I haven't seen him in months. He won’t come here. He knows you’re looking for him. Besides, he knows I’ve moved on.”

Starsky didn’t disagree or try to press her for more, but let the silence do its work. It didn’t take long. 

“Huggy must have told you, I’m off the streets now,” She brushed a strand of hair off her face as if brushing away her past. “I’m going to school to be a floral designer. I work at the school cafeteria in a work /study program. I plan to own my own shop someday. I don’t want to screw it up getting involved with cops.”

Hutch finally spoke, but followed Starsky’s example of gentling his voice as if addressing a starling about to fly away. He took her hand in his. “Camille, we can help you if Jardin does contact you or threatens you. You have a good life started here. We can protect you…”

A small, half laugh erupted from her throat and she pulled her hand away. “I don’t need protection from Emile. You got him all wrong. I know you think he killed those girls, but he’s innocent. That’s just like cops. Judging a person without really knowing them.”

“You don’t know the Emile that I do. He is gentle and nurturing, he loves to make green things grow. He used to bring me flowers. Such a man found not commit murder.” Starsky and Hutch didn't know who she wanted to convince more, her or them. 

“Besides, like I said, he won’t come here,” she continued, her words now sounding brittle enough to break. “Now you should go. I need to get to class.” 

She turned her back to them and reached for the textbook on the coffee table.

Starsky glanced at Hutch and nodded. Hutch slipped his card into Camille's hand on top of the book. “You can reach me or Starsky at that number. Day or night, we’ll get the message.”

ooOOoo

Starsky and Hutch walked down the hall side by side, their strides falling into an easy synchronicity. Hutch was just about to compliment Starsky on his interviewing style when the door to Camille’s apartment opened back up. 

“Wait,” she called out. “Maybe I do have something I can tell you.”

They stopped and turned around, their feelings shifting on the spectrum from disappointment to slight hope. As detectives, they knew even the slightest detail could crack a case wide open. 

“You said Emile was picked up in San Francisco?” she asked. 

They were all ears. “That’s right,” Hutch replied as they retraced their steps back to her.

“He told me once he had a brother living there. Emile had a - rough home life. He was raised by a stepmother. I think he said her name was Flora. I guess that’s what attracted me to him in the first place.” Camille cocked her head and gave them a sad smile. “That motherly instinct, you know?” 

“Sure, Camille,” Starsky responded gently. “We all do a lot of crazy things for love.” 

Hutch looked at Starsky, once again amazed at the man’s insight. How could he have ever mistaken him for a simple, muscle-bound bouncer? 

“Do you have a name?”

“Aster. Aster Bucket. You see, 'Jardin' isn't Emile's real last name.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	7. Chapter 7

Starsky had barely settled into the passenger seat of the Galaxie before Hutch turned to him from behind the wheel. “Steve and I never got even that far with her before. You did good, partner.” 

“Maybe we should keep a tail on her in case Jardin shows up,” Starsky thought aloud.

“I don’t know, Starsk. I think she’s probably right. Jardin’s lost interest in her.” 

Nevertheless, Hutch agreed to wait around the corner as Camille exited the apartment building and headed for her rusty, yellow AMC Hornet Hatchback parked in a small side lot. She looked around the lot nervously, then threw her books into the hatch.

Jardin may have lost interest in her but Starsky clearly had not. Starsky continued to watch the rusty Hornet until it turned the corner as Hutch radioed in the new contact information to Captain Dobey. Hutch wanted to think his new partner was stuck on the case rather than long, silky black hair and wounded eyes. Hutch wanted to warn him that a soft heart only leads to trouble. After all, he should know. 

ooOOoo

Starsky balanced on the back of the chair at Steve’s old desk directly across from Hutch, bouncing one foot on the chair as he scrutinized a file in his hand. Hutch tried not to notice how Starsky’s jeans stretched right over his package when he sat like that. The effort was practically making him sweat. 

Hutch cleared his throat. “So, find anything interesting?”

Starsky dropped down from his precarious perch, and bottomed out in the seat of in his chair. He opened up the next file on the desktop and ran a hand roughly through his hair. Hutch wished he could do the same. 

“There is somethin' here, Hutch. I can feel it. I just can’t reach it.”

“Yeah.” Hutch said softly, even though his eyes were on the dark curls rather than the open file.

“Hutch, if I wanted the files of all unsolved murders of females in BC for the past five years, how quickly could I get that?”

Hutch leaned back in his chair and absently fingered the skin below his throat as if deep in concentration. This case had to be doing strange things to Starsky's brain because in the two seconds it took Hutch to answer, his thoughts switched to imagining Hutch’s long fingers doing that to his. . . 

“Yeah, sure,” Hutch straightened, all back to business. “When you're on a case, all information is open to you. There are about two hundred fifty homicides in BC every year and less than half are female. It shouldn’t be too hard to compose a list of all the cold cases for the last couple of years. Go visit Minnie in the file room in the basement. Introduce yourself as my new partner. Get on her good side and she’ll find you anything you need.” 

Starsky didn’t like the way the easy way he’d referred to Minnie. He wondered exactly what Hutch had done to get on her good side. In his eyes the guy had charm to spare - no matter which way he swung. It almost felt like jealousy when he what he should really be feeling was grateful. . . Sure, he’d been full of anger when he learned about the bet between Hutch and Huggy, but he was smart enough not to underestimate the value of sitting across from one of the finest detectives in Bay City. 

Starsky was well aware that as a team Hutch and Steve had the highest arrest and conviction rate in the department and he wanted desperately to be just as successful. But there was something else. He didn’t quite understand why, but felt he wanted to make Hutch proud. He wanted to outshine all the Minnies, Steve Kellers and anyone else who came across Hutch’s line of vision. 

He was going to do all he could to make Hutch win that bet and bless the day Officer Dave Starsky came into his life.

Three hours later, while Hutch had gone off to see if he could get a local address for Aster Bucket, Starsky had a towering pile of rejected cold case files on his desk and ten files of interest in his hand. Definitely a workable number.

When the phone on his desk rang, he expected it to be Hutch with an update on Aster.

“Detective Starsky,” he reached over and announced into the phone. It still gave him a little kick to say it. 

_“Oh! I must have dialed my old desk. Um… this is Detective Steve Keller of SFPD. Dave Starsky is it?”_

Ah, the great and mighty Steve Keller. Well, since Starsky didn’t hear angels singing in the background, he figured the guy might be a mere mortal after all. “That’s my name, hotshot, don’t wear it out,” Starsky said.

There was a pause at the other end, as if Steve was measuring how much to say. _“Well, uh, Officer Starsky, I hope you’re keeping an eye on my partner for me. I want you to know I think the world of Hutch. My leaving had nothing to do with him personally. We were just . . . going in different directions, let’s say.”_

What Starsky wanted to say was that he was just now beginning to see what Steve was missing. That Steve was a heel to have put Hutch in the lurch the way he had. And that Starsky found he didn’t mind so much being the one to pick up the pieces. But what came out was, “As a matter of fact, I’m keeping both eyes on my partner as much as possible.”

_“Glad to hear it. Is he available?”_

“Not at the moment, but I’ll take a message for him. Shoot.” 

Hutch might tear him a new one when found out he intercepted his call, but wasn’t that what partners were for? Starsky reasoned. To protect their back, no matter where the peril came from. And it didn’t just come from guns. A wounded heart might just be the most painful injury of all. 

There was another pause. Steve was obviously disappointed at having to talk to Starsky rather than Hutch, but then he continued.

_“Tell Hutch we found out Jardin isn’t Emile's real name. It’s Bucket. Emile Bucket. And he has a younger brother here in San Francisco. Name of Aster Bucket. He might have been the connection that picked him up.”_

Starsky smiled mischievously. “Ya mean the goon who knocked out your partner when you were busy bein’ cold cocked by a Bucket?”

_“Yeah, well, just tell Hutch they both might be in Bay City by now.”_

“We already know. Camille Gomez told us. Hutch is working on getting a fix on him as we speak.” The pleasure Starsky got from saying it was worth any dressing down he may get.

 _“You got that from Camille? Man, she was one uptight chick.”_

Starsky was surprised to hear what sounded like admiration in the other man’s voice. Then again, if Hutch was so hung up on him, he should have realized that somewhere deep down Steve was more than just a pretty head of hair. 

_“Oh and Starsky. Tell Hutch there was a woman murdered here in San Francisco three nights ago - shortly before we picked up Emile Jardin. It may just be a coincidence, but Mike Stone and I are looking to see if we can find any connection.”_

“Is that so?” 

_“Yeah, she was a 42-year-old waitress. Name of Lilly Jackson. Killed with some unusually shaped, sharp object but no weapon was found at the scene. I gotta tell you, the deaths of these women is a mystery. They all come from different walks of life, different ages, different ethnicities. Except for having Jardin in the vicinity, we just can’t seem to put the pieces together.”_

“Well, good luck with that.” Starsky made mental note of the murder, then hung up on the bewildered Keller. He gave himself a triumphant, if invisible pat on the back. He held his own against Hutch’s ex-partner. He'd tell Hutch that Keller called . . . maybe, later.

ooOOoo

Starsky had barely hung up the phone when Hutch burst into the office waving a piece of paper triumphantly. “I think I got something on Aster. I checked out the house the family supposedly owned, but no one's lived there for years. But I got wind of a strip club he’s been seen at - The Bird of Paradise.”

He pushed the paper with the address of the club in front of Starsky, then took a sip from the half-full coffee mug that sat next to the stack of files on his desk. 

“That’ll do.” Starsky looked at the address, absently taking the mug back from Hutch and draining it down. “We can stake it out tonight.”

Another rookie detective by the name of Simmons who'd been watching their exchange from a corner desk tilted his chair back on two legs and grinned. 

“Hey, Starsky. Looks like you’re gonna be spendin’ the night in Hutch’s car. That why you’re dressed like that? To blend in with the other bums who live in their derelict cars?”

“Shut it, Simmons. That’s my first love you’re talking about.” Hutch snapped.

“Oh, yeah, Hutch? You talkin’ about your car or Starsky?”

A few of the other detectives sniggered, inadvertently egging Simmons on. “Oh, no wait. That was Stevey-boy with the dreamy hair, wasn’t it?” Simmons laughed and nudged his partner, Babcock, sitting next to him. Babcock just scowled at his rookie.

Hutch became flustered at that, unable to think of a fast enough comeback. He wondered how close Simmons had come to guessing the truth. Then again, maybe he wasn’t fooling anyone. Maybe everyone had figured just what made him tick. Was that why Starsky had seemed to be cooling toward him lately? 

Hutch got a sick feeling it the pit of his stomach. Maybe he’d misread Starsky’s open-minded comments that day of the parade. 

Starsky sauntered up to Simmons, putting Keller’s phone call behind him. “Simmons, I’d love to run into you sometime outside of the office, preferably when you’re walkin’ and I’m drivin’.” He nudged a leg of Simmon’s chair with his toe, causing the man to nearly topple over before he was able to catch himself. 

That remark got a laugh out of everyone, even Simmons. Babcock smacked Simmons head lightly with a manila envelope. “Get back to work, trainee.”

Hutch stretched his arms toward for the ceiling, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Starsky, you want to get a bite before we go on stakeout? You might want to grab a snack or a soda pop for the car, maybe pick up a paperback or a crossword magazine.”

Starsky strolled back to his desk. “That boring, huh?”

“Oh, God, yes. But maybe we could talk, you know, get to know each other b… better.” Hutch shifted in his chair, embarrassed at his badly timed stutter. Starsky raised an eyebrow. He didn’t miss the stutter. He thought it was cute. Big bad Hutchinson nervous about spending a night alone in a car with a lowly rookie.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he teased. But quickly realized how true it was.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	8. Chapter 8

Hutch had switched cars with Babcock for the stakeout since it looked like it might rain and Hutch was still having trouble with his car’s roof. Simmons wasn’t too far wrong in calling it a derelict. As daylight faded, the partners settled in for the evening in Babcock’s roomy, burgundy Thunderbird.

Starsky couldn’t complain. The car had luxurious velour bucket seats in the front, plenty of leg room and cup holders, and center arm rests that could be easily maneuvered up or down. Babcock jokingly said he kept them down on occasions such as this so that he and Simmons could preserve a measure of personal space and sanity. But Starsky noticed Hutch had pushed them up and out of the way. He had no complaints about that either. 

A car’s headlights pulled into the half-full parking lot of the Bird of Paradise - a drab building that was a far cry from its namesake. Both men tightened their muscles and uncovered their holsters to better access their guns, ready to spring into action. But when the car's occupant turned out to be in his sixties and on the far side of two hundred pounds, they simultaneously relaxed into the plush seats and shared an uncomfortable laugh. 

Hutch cleared his throat. “Now we wait and watch.”

Starsky sighed. He turned to reach into the back seat for the small army duffel he'd brought with him. He couldn’t quite reach it so he grunted, twisted and finally kneeled in his seat and stretched behind him with moves that would have made a contortionist proud. 

“Starsky! What the hell are you after back there?” Hutch inched away and cranked open his window an inch, suddenly feeling stifled. He was getting an up close and personal look at one of Starsky’s best features, that was in addition to his perpetually tousled hair, his deep blue eyes, his thousand-watt smile. . . 

“I brought those files, you know, the ten other cases.” Starsky grunted and stretched again, making Hutch roll his eyes. 

“Don’t you know those files aren’t supposed to leave your desk! You broke protocol. What if you dropped one, especially here?” Hutch snapped.

“Oh, fuck. I didn’t know that. Man, I screwed up didn’t I?” Starsky pulled back and found their faces just inches apart. He was looking square into his superior’s eyes. _Yeah, Superior, like the lake,_ he thought. It fit him. Calm and blue on the surface, yet with beckoning, hidden depths. In those eyes he saw pain mingle with pride. Compassion bound together with strength. 

Deeper still he thought he glimpsed loneliness and longing, or was that a reflection of his own foundering feelings? While Hutch had been teaching him what it took to be a good detective - being alert to the smallest nuances and trusting his instincts - Starsky found himself sensing Hutch near no matter how crowded the room or noticing the spark that flared when his thigh rubbed against another as muscled as his own. 

Something between them seemed to have a life force of its own. Given the attention it craved, Starsky feared that “something” might flair to life and overtake him. Even though he’d swore to leave that impulse an ocean away, he didn’t know if he was strong enough to fight it from here.

Hutch licked his lips. His response was gentler now. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover for you. I guess I can’t expect you to know everything in a few weeks’ time. I’ve got an independent study guide at home for the Detective Sergeant's exam. Protocol is covered along with everything else you should know. I should have reviewed it with you already.”

“You’d do that for me? You’d cover for me. Not tell Dobey or anyone?” Starsky insides melted like ice cream left out too long. One minute Hutch was blustery and self-assured, the next he was a shy little boy. The need Hutch had for someone to believe in him, to trust in him, the same as Starsky, seemed obvious. 

“Sure, it’s no big deal. Dobey would have let you sign out the files if you asked. It’s what partners do, buddy,” said Hutch.

A tingling warmth begin in Starsky's toes, moved upwards and then settled somewhere near his heart. It reminded him of the night he’d pinned a drunken, heartbroken Hutch to the barroom floor. Only now it was much more urgent. It was sexual, yes, but also something more. Starsky could get off with any number of women. In fact he did on a regular basis. But that sensation was shallow by comparison. This was as insistent as a captured bird beating its wings against a window, desperate to break free. 

Starsky looked at his partner’s face. The fine features surrounded by a halo of gold, those bluer than blue eyes that opened right into his soul, and he realized how easily he could be captured. 

A sureness settled the wings that had made his heart pound in his chest and, just like that, he knew. He was in love with his condescending, infuriating, gorgeous, dumb blond partner. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. 

Maybe this way Steve had felt, too. And why he he had left. 

What should he do? What could he say? The feelings seemed overwhelming. Or were they just too shocking to face? Since when had he been such a coward?

Starsky sighed and grabbed the folders he’d been looking for. He most likely would never know. Hutch was his partner and that was all. He'd said as much. A stand in for someone else. Besides, in the real world men weren’t supposed to fall for other men, unless you were as much of a character as Huggy. He was just plain Dave Starsky, former soldier and bouncer, now hopeful police detective.

Starsky sat back. “I’m lucky to have you in my corner,” he said quietly.

Hutch blushed for some reason and Starsky longed to ask what he was thinking. But Hutch asked first.

“Want some coffee?” he offered as he reached for the thermos that lay between them. 

Starsky schooled his features and adjusted his body in his seat. What he wanted was something he couldn’t have. “Maybe later. I’m gonna go over these files again. Don’t wanna slop coffee all over them.”

Hutch nodded then busied himself with his thermos, twisting the cap, filling the cup, inhaling the invigorating aroma. Every movement a tiny dance of enticement. In order to keep from being distracted, Starsky fastened his eyes on the files in his lap.

Around ten-thirty, Hutch sighed. “Starsky, I don’t think Aster is going to show. More often than not, a stake out like this amounts to nothing.”

Starsky didn’t look up. He’d been fixated on the misappropriated files for hours. He had them just about memorized. “Connors, Rosalie,” he mumbled.

Hutch smirked at the way Starsky rattled off the name like he was one of those space age computers. But Starsky was very much flesh and blood. In fact, Starsky’s flesh being so close had kept him more awake than the coffee. 

“Conners, right,” Hutch responded. “She was killed about a year ago. . .”

“Then there’s Poppy Tailor, Jasmine Curtiss, Dahlia D’Angelo, Violet Martin, Daisy Monroe and Lilly Jackson. There’s got to be a connection between these women. But they’re all different ages, from all different walks of life from different parts of town. But all loners. And all killed with an unknown sharp object.”

“Lilly Jackson?”

“Yeah, Steve Keller happened to mention that name as a recent homicide victim in San Francisco.” Starsky finally looked up from his reading with the grace to look sheepish.

“When did you talk to Steve?” Hutch turned so suddenly he nearly spilled the cup of coffee he’d just poured. 

“Uh, yesterday. He called wanting to check in on the case. You were out of the office following up on Aster.” Starsky waited for the explosion he knew he was due. But Hutch didn’t respond except for the tightening of his hands around the hot cup. While Starsky had begun to feel he could almost read Hutch’s mind, he was glad this wasn’t one of those times.

After a few minutes Hutch relaxed. He even yawned and adjusted his seat so it was slightly inclined.

“Hey, why don’t you chill and take a nap,” Starsky told him, happy that he didn’t get the ass-chewing he'd expected. “I’m too wired to sleep. I promise I’ll wake you if I see even a Tom cat lookin’ suspicious.”

Hutch nodded and leaned his head back. It seemed like a month since he had a good night’s sleep. Having Steve walk out on their partnership had really shaken him up. But Starsky’s company eased him. It was funny how as much as Starsky stirred him up, he seemed to calm him, too. He should have been upset that Starsky hadn’t told him about Steve’s call but now he almost felt relieved. 

“Okay, just an hour. And wake me if that Tom cat even sneezes.”

“You got it, Hutch.”

As Hutch closed his eyes, Starsky went back to thinking about the files, no, the women victims. After so much time studying them, each had become a person to him. They may have been nobodies but at one time they’d been someone’s daughter or sister or lover, and they didn’t deserve such gruesome deaths. No matter a person’s past, they still deserved a future. He was more determined than ever to find their killer. 

Starsky took one more look at the mug shot of Aster Bucket while keeping alert to the street, driveway and entrance to ‘The Bird of Paradise.’ He didn’t see anything other than a parade of lonely men going in and out of the windowless building, hoping for sexual release and escape from reality if only for a few hours. 

Then Starsky glanced over at Hutch. Shadows covered his eyes and his head was turned towards Starsky as he rested against the lush velour. His features seemed regal in contrast to the harsh lights of the dirty strip. Each set of passing headlights reflected across his hair, leaving a streak of white gold in their wake. He looked like an ancient Nordic prince on his throne of soft burgundy velvet, dropped into modern times but returning to Valhalla in his dreams.

But Hutch would soon wake to this particular reality, where they dealt with their loneliness in their own way. 

Starsky gently lifted a strand of gold that had wandered onto Hutch’s cheek. He allowed himself one fleeting touch of his skin. It was soft as a rose petal while his shadowy beard felt like prickly thorns. Starsky wanted to pluck that flower and plant him in his own garden.

He smiled as he remembered the old joke his army buddies said about wanting tulips on their organ. He jerked his hand away as an idea struck him like a lightning bolt.

“Flowers. That’s it! Hutch!”

Starsky scrambled for his files as Hutch startled awake. “Wha’? Huh? You see something, Starsk?”

Starsky nearly missed the shortening of his name in his agitation. “Hutch! Flowers! Flowers!”

“What are you on about?”

“Okay. I been tryin’ to find a connection between these ladies murders and Jardin. Camille said his mother’s name was Flora. And she disappeared. Maybe that’s where it all started.

Starsky held up six files and tapped them excitedly. “I got Daisy Monroe, here. Along with Poppy Tailor, Jasmine Curtiss, Dahlia D’Angelo, Violet Martin and in San Fran, Rosalie Conners. All these poor girls have flower names, Hutch!”

“Whoa. Slow down. What are you saying?”

Hutch was too distracted by Starsky’s closeness to grasp his meaning. His outburst had pushed him passed the no man’s land of the central armrest barrier and he was definitely on Hutch’s side of the fence. Plus the energetic current spiking through the part of Starsky’s anatomy that brushed his was turning his brain matter to jelly. 

Hutch shook his head and gamely pulled himself together.

“Remember Camille mentioned his mother’s name was Flora, Hutch? And she mysteriously disappeared. What if he killed her first? Then Poppy, Jasmine, Dahlia, Violet, Daisy and Rosalie. This sicko might just be a serial killer, Hutch. Doncha see? He’s collecting flowers for his garden.”

Hutch picked up Starsky’s lead with a snap of his fingers.

“Starsk, Jardin is French for garden.”

“These ladies, Hutch. They were all stabbed, but not with a standard knife. The M.E.’s speculated it may have been hand tools of some type. What if they were gardening tools?.”

Hutch was surprised to see tears glisten in Starsky’s eyes.

“Nobody cared, Hutch. Those girls were nobodies, so nobody looked closely enough. They are human bein’s. Like you and me. They were some mother’s baby. Some daddy’s little girl. Why did he kill them? And why did we let him?”

“Oh God, Hutch.” Starsky’s shoulders sagged and Hutch drew him into his arms. He held him as Starsky battled his sobs. A dumb street tuff? Not by a long shot. Hutch searched his heart for something to say.

“You’re right, babe. Cops see so much stinking garbage on the street that we can lose our humanity. That’s why I became a homicide detective. To bring some closure and justice to those who can no longer speak for themselves. You just reminded me why I’m here. Keep reminding me, partner, don’t ever stop and don’t ever change,” he told him as he brushed a hand through the dark hair.

Starsky straightened up at that and even managed a smile. “You got it partner.”

Hutch produced a handkerchief and wiped Starsky’s face. The force that had been building between them was pushing them together, but still Starsky found the strength to pull away. He took Hutch’s handkerchief from his hand and finished wiping his glistening eyes. The closeness of a moment ago was replaced by a wall. 

“Still think I’m detective material?” Starsky asked.

Hutch felt the change in his partner, like a drop in air pressure before a storm. “More than ever, Starsky. If your theory is right, this may be the biggest case in your career, even though, I know you don’t care about that now, when we find this guy and the smoke clears, you’ll probably be my mentor. You’ve already taught me a few things.”

Instead of being flattered Starsky bristled. “What could I possibly have taught you that the great Steve Keller hasn’t already covered.”

“What?” The turbulence was making his head spin.

“Come on Hutch. I know about the bet you and Huggy had. You thought you could make any poor slob who walked a beat into a hotshot detective. Well, congratulations. It worked. You gave me a chance and I’m grateful. But stop the ‘care about you’ routine already. I could be anyone. You never paid enough attention to me to even know… even know what color my eyes are, oh, great Detective Hutchinson. But I bet you know tons of crap about Keller. I bet you know all about that palooka.” 

“Blue.” Hutch said quietly.

“Wha’”?

“Your eyes are a brilliant sapphire blue. And they light up my world.”

Hutch leaned across the seat and kissed Starsky’s cheek.

Starsky touched where the kiss lingered. “Hutch?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was in love with you?” Hutch murmured, then trembled at being so exposed. He had no way of knowing how Starsky would react. This rejection would be a hundred times worse than Steve’s. It would end his career. Dobey would never trust him with a partner again. But maybe even more than that, the rejection would fracture his exposed heart beyond repair.

Starsky slowly smiled and cleared his throat. “You love me, huh?”

Hutch held his breath and nodded.

“Well, good. Because I love you too.” Starsky grabbed Hutch’s jacket and pressed his lips against the mouth he'd so desired.

The kiss was passionate but brief. Both men aware that they were on the job and a distraction as earth-shattering as this could cost someone their life. It could only be something to explore later. 

Hutch reached across the seat and placed a hand on Starsky’s thigh, the touch tremulous. “Babe? You want to get something to eat? And after, if you want, I… I… rent a house on a canal. I… I… mean. Damn.” Hutch drug a hand self-consciously through his hair. 

Starsky was getting used to his partner ability to turn his heart into a squishy mess, but this was too adorable. He decided to put him out of his misery.

“You askin’ me for a sleepover, Hutch? You wanna pop some corn and… hang out with me?”

Hutch blushed. Starsky laughed and patted the hand on his thigh. Then Starsky's brain suddenly skidded to a halt, as he was struck by a horrifying thought.

“Oh, man.”

“What, Starsk?” Hutch caught the shiver go through his partner's body. 

“Camille. That’s like Camillia, right? That’s why he came back. For her. Another flower to pluck.”

They exchanged no more than a glance before the Thunderbird’s engine roared to life and tires squealed as Hutch pulled out of the Bird of Paradise’ parking lot. Any attention the noise might have drawn to themselves was immaterial in that moment.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	9. Chapter 9

They made it to Camille’s just in time to see her climb into the passenger’s side of a dark sedan, assisted by a tall, handsome man with straight, dark hair that would have fallen past his shoulders if it wasn't tied back. It was obvious she wasn’t going willingly. 

“It’s Emile,” Hutch said grimly. 

The suspected killer had a oddly aristocratic air about him. He would have been at home in silk tights and a powdered wig. They watched Jardin straighten his tailored, kid leather jacket and smooth back his hair before getting behind the wheel. 

Starsky radioed in their location, as Hutch followed the sedan at a discreet distance. The neighborhoods slowly changed from those of boarded up houses and dingy corner stores with half-lit signs blinking forlornly to gated communities of mansions with long winding driveways and manicured lawns.

Emile’s car pulled into the driveway of an old mission style stucco home, a relic from the nineteen twenties. There were no lights on in the house and no other cars to be seen. Hutch pulled to the side of the curved road a discreet distance away but where they still had a view. At one time the residence might easily have been a place to host galas attended by silent film stars with glamour and style. The house had fallen into disrepair, its once sparkling white walls now grimy and stained with rust from cracked and overflowing terra cotta tile gutters. By comparison, however, the lawn had remained well-tended. 

Behind the home was a stately walled garden complete with marble benches and angel statuary. The carved faces glowed ominously under the moon. Camille and Jardine bypassed the front door and entered the midnight garden, unaware that they were being watched by more than just the stone cherubs. Jardin pushed Camille down on a bench under a garden arch entwined with lush moonflower vines. The flower beds here were tended with obvious care. Saucer sized white flowers were of a variety that opened only at night, giving an eerie glow to the two human forms.

Starsky shivered despite the warmth of the night as he and Hutch followed the couple into the secluded garden, using the abundance of lush greenery to their advantage. He’d been in plenty of dangerous situations in the war, but this was different. This wasn't a stinking, half-rotted forest and a village of huts. There’d be no commanding officer’s orders to follow unquestioningly. He and Hutch were a unit of two, with only each other to count on. Whatever happened tonight, who lived and who died, was up to him and Hutch alone.

The thought fed Starsky an exhilarating mix of power and fear. Taking down a murderer in the flesh would be a lot different than taking one down in the theory. He knew that too. Especially when an innocent girl and someone he’d grown to care for deeply were in the cross hairs. In his bones, he felt the need for Hutch beside him, needed his calm professionalism as a counterbalance to his own rookie jitters and hot-headedness. He didn’t want to think what it would be like without him.. 

Hutch placed a restraining hand on the tight muscles of Starsky’s arm and gave him a look that said the same thought was going through his head.

“Starsky, Jardin is probably armed - but we don’t know with what. We have him cornered. He will be desperate. No matter what else goes down, the priority is to get Camille out of harm’s way. You circle behind to the right and get close to the girl. I’ll go left and go for Jardin. When I announce myself, you grab the girl and get her to safety. No heroics. You hear me?”

Starsky’s grinned wolfishly. “Anybody ever tell you you’re beautiful when you plan to take down a murderer?”

Hutch smirked. “Clown.” He learned over and kissed him. Starsky didn’t pull back. If anything, he pushed back closer. 

A intense look passed between them before they went their separate ways. Guns ready, they stepped as stealthily as the night breeze. Starsky going right, Hutch left.

That put Jardin and Camille dead center.

They watched as Emile lifted his fingers to caress Camille’s cheek, the glint of a metal object in his hand. Camille sat frozen in terror. Seeing Starsky positioned behind the rhododendron nearest Camille, Hutch shouted out. 

“Police! Freeze!” 

Starsky dove at Camille, pulling her off the bench as Hutch stepped out from the hedgerow, his gun pointed at Jardin. Jardin stood to face Hutch, his face composed and calm. He smiled as benignly as a patient parent indulging a precocious child.

“Is there a problem officer? My fiance’ and I were just enjoying a moment in the garden. I do love a garden, especially in the moonlight, don't you?”

Suddenly awakened from her stupor, Camille clawed hysterically at Starsky like someone drowning. Starsky yelped in pain but didn’t let go of his charge.

Hutch flinched reflexively at the sound and Jardin took the opening. He leapt forward and sliced Hutch’s gun arm with a sharpened, narrow garden spade. The movement caused the gun to fire but Hutch twisted wildly, knowing how closely in range Camille and Starsky were.

Jardin raised his arm again and buried his weapon in Hutch’s chest.

Starsky’s adrenaline kicked in at the sight. He pushed Camille out of the way and pulled his gun. From his position on the ground he took aim at Jardin’s back, an easy kill shot. But Hutch’s conscience was in his head. He lowered his aim. The shot hit Jardin’ leg and the psycho slid to the ground with a whimper. 

Starsky scrambled over to Hutch, the spade sticking obscenely out of the right side of his chest, near the shoulder. His precious life blood oozed around the hilt of the spade. When Starsky rolled him gently into his arms, Hutch struggled to speak. “Secure the scene, Detective. ‘cuff ‘em. Read him his rights. By the book. Back up will be here soon.”

 _Sure. By the book. Anything you want, babe. Right now I’d even wear that silly ass Easter hat as long as you come out of this okay,’_ he thought as he reached behind Hutch for his cuffs. Hutch moaned with the slight movement. “I’ll kill you if you die on me. I’ll be right back,” he whispered in his ear. 

Hutch just looked up at him, his eyes glossy, his breathing labored.

“You were right,” Camille sobbed as she lay crumpled on the ground, too traumatized to stand. “I should have listened to you. Emile is a murderer! He told me how he murdered those women, maybe more. Starting with his mother!”

At her words, Jardin’s debonair demeanor changed instantly to that of a deranged monster. 

“She was NOT my mother! She was my nanny! My mother was an angel who committed suicide when she found out my father was sleeping with the help! She had to die! My father married the slut and gave her my name, my birthright. But his evil deed took it’s toll. He had a heart attack and left me and poor little Aster to be raised by a demon whore. She had to die!”

“Oh, mother fucker. What a whack job,” Starsky muttered. He tried to commit the rant to memory as he cuffed Emile. He read him his rights, but his mind was on his partner bleeding out a few feet away. He couldn’t let him down.

Camille backed even further away from Jardin in horror. “You killed your step-mother? But those girls? Why? Why?” She sobbed.

Jardin smiled as pleasantly as if he’d just been asked if he preferred cream or sugar.

“My real mother loved her cutting garden. She taught me how to arrange flowers. She always said, ‘my darling boy, women are like flowers, they are many and varied, but each has its own beauty.’ I searched for my perfect flower, but they were all wilted. I had to prune them, so my garden would be without blemish. Camille, my pure white Camillia, you were the only one who fought the evil inside you and blossomed into a flower worthy of my love. I had to come back to claim you.”

Suddenly sirens announced the arrival of the cavalry. Babcock and Simmons ran into the garden with guns drawn after what seemed like hours but were in reality had only been minutes. Starsky was relieved to turn the scene over to them and finally give his full attention to Hutch whose eyes had closed. 

“Hutch? You hear me?”

Hutch answered weakly. “You okay, partner?”

“I ain’t the one with a garden tool stickin’ outta me, ya dumb blondie.”

“S... Starsk? H… how bad? It hurts like hell.” Hutch moaned and tried to grab for Starsky’s hand. Starsky gripped it back and gave it a squeeze. 

“It missed your heart, Hutch. You’re gonna be alright. You just hang on to me.” Starsky held Hutch’s hand to his own heart, hoping his words were the truth. 

Hutch just nodded and gasped as even that small movement sent waves of pain through his body.

Starsky winced in sympathy. He leaned in and whispered. “You ain’t getting away from me this easy, baby. You have a lot more to teach me and we got a date for next year.”

Hutch forced his eyes open. “Huh? A d...date?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m takin’ you to the Easter Parade next spring. That’s a promise. We’re gonna march together. So you aren’t goin’ nowhere without me. Get it?”

Hutch managed a slight smile as Simmons came up behind Starsky and handed him an emergency pressure bandage. Simmons took Hutch’s slashed arm and began to wrap gauze around the deep cut. Starsky pressed the bandage as carefully as he could over Hutch’s chest wound, without removing the spade since it was the only thing stopping him from bleeding out. Hutch cried out in pain as his brother cop’s ministrations became too much for him to handle. He passed out just before the ambulance arrived.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	10. Chapter 10

Starsky had never kept a vigil for a loved one before. He didn’t have the chance when his father died and in the army he'd never had the time. His buddies were beside him one day and gone forever the next. He'd decided it was safest not to get too close to anyone. After all, he couldn't mourn what he didn't miss. He should have know it was too late for him to play it safe.

After Hutch had dropped his hand and they'd wheeled his gurney through the double doors, Starsky wasn't quite sure what he was supposed do to other than pace the linoleum hall like an actor in a daytime drama. He felt he should call somebody, but he didn't know who. Hutch's parents were all the way in the middle of Corntown, U.S.A, but Dobey said Hutch and his family were estranged, so Starsky didn’t think it was right to call them until after he spoke with Hutch.

And he _would_ speak to Hutch again.

The intensity of his worry was mind-blowing. It squeezed his chest till he could hardly breathe. When he closed his eyes he could still see Hutch pale and bleeding while all he could do was wait for help to arrive. Every step he took up and down the long hall made his head pound with the insane thought that if Hutch died, he'd never want to take another one. He froze in his tracks. How could he live without Hutch to bring the spring sunshine to his soul? 

Then rage bubbled up through his veins. That mother fucker Jardin had stabbed _his_ partner. He tried to kill _his Hutch_. That’s how he thought of him now. _His_. If he wasn't sure of anything else, that was the one thing he'd never doubt. No matter what happened between them from here on out, he was Hutch's and Hutch was his. 

Which brought him back to his interminable vigil. Huggy, Simmons, Babcock and other of their brother cops wandered in and out of the hospital, bringing coffee, sandwiches, prayers and well wishes. But Starsky never left. He just accepted the offerings of hot coffee and camaraderie till both became unpalatable. At last, as he sank into a plastic chair in the dreary waiting room he accepted he was deeply and truly in love with Hutch.

He thought back to his liaisons in the army. Secret touching in dark places just to feel alive. Shame that was later covered over by the joy of coming home. Starsky knew he’d come home only just now. And it was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Detective Starsky? Are you here for Detective Hutchinson?” A silver haired man with weary eyes but a kind smile and dressed in a white surgeon’s gown emerged from the intimidating double doors. 

The prospect of hearing the update he'd been so impatient for now sent fingers of fear down Starky's spine.

“Yes. That’s me, Doctor.” He rose shakily from the chair.

“I’m Dr. Smallwood. Detective Hutchinson is out of surgery now and resting comfortably in ICU. He lost quite a bit of blood and we had to wait till his vitals were stable before operating. That's the reason it took us so long.”

“Hey, Doc. If Hutch needs blood, well, you can have mine and if that don’t match the whole department would…”

Dr. Smallwood held up a hand and smiled. “I know, Detective. I’ve worked with Bay City’s finest before. I assure you he's fine.”

“Well, that's _my_ partner you got in there and I want him to have the best…”

“Detective,” the doctor laid a consoling hand on his arm. “Everything went very well. The stab wound was tricky, an odd shape as you know and we needed to repair extensive damage to his shoulder. But he was lucky. The wound came close to his heart, just not close enough.”

“He’ll need to wear a sling and use his arm as little as possible while it heals. After a month or so of physical therapy and he’ll be back to work with no restrictions. The injury to his right forearm was deep but did little damage to the muscle tissue.”

“I’d like to keep him a few days, but barring complications and as long as he has someone to keep an eye on him,” the doctor gave Starsky a meaningful look, “he can probably be released by Friday.”

“Released? You mean he’s good? He’s just gonna need some help gettin’ around?” Starsky felt as if a millstone lifted from his chest. He practically felt like dancing. 

“That’s right, Detective Starsky. And I assume you have that covered. Now why don’t you get yourself some coffee in the cafeteria. You can see your partner as soon as he’s been moved to a regular room. I’ll tell the desk to keep you informed.”

“Yeah, sure, Doc. More coffee. Thank you.” Starsky pumped his hand. “Thank you so much.”

Dr. Smallwood nodded and smiled a little broader. “My pleasure. I’ve been in emergency surgery at this hospital for a long time. I do understand what partners go through out here while their loved ones are beyond those doors,” the doctor gestured with a nod of his head. “You take all the time you need with him.”

Starsky smiled back and suddenly the torturous vigil was over. 

ooOOoo

“Come on, Hutch. Enough with the snoozin’. I wanna see those baby blues again. I've missed 'em.”

Hutch had been moved to a recovery room after a short stint in ICU. Still, he just wanted to float. He wanted to settle into the warm, cozy drug-induced fog and drift painlessly, lost between dreams and reality. But a stronger will than his own was calling him away. 

The stronger will he knew could only be his Starsky. His one and only love. He’d been attracted to Starsky, but then he’d been attracted to Steve as well. For a while he'd guessed he just had a thing for gorgeous men. But the moment Emile stabbed his arm and his gun had gone off, he knew if Starsky had been killed, he'd have no reason to live either. Starsky had become a part of him in a way Steve never had. Steve Keller was his friend, Starsky was his soul.

He tried to open his eyes.

“That’s right, Hutch. Come on back to me.” Starsky squeezed his hand and was delighted with a squeeze back and a mumbled, “S… Starrr…”

Hutch opened his eyes and slowly smiled. “Ummmm… Starss.”

“That’s a good start, buddy! Oh, yeah, a little foggy but bluer than blue. There’s my Hutch.”

“Wha’?”

“What happened? What do you remember, babe?”

Hutch frowned and Starsky leaned in to kiss his forehead and chuckle. “Don’t strain your brain, babe.”

“Hos… pital?”

“Yeah, you’re in the hospital. You were stabbed, remember?”

Hutch slowly nodded then raised his uninjured arm, where his IV was attached and gently touched Starsky’s face. “You, ‘K, par’ner?”

Starsky felt a catch in his throat. “Yeah, Hutch. I’m okay. Simmons, Babcock, Camille even Jardin, more or less. Everybody's okay. Ya dumb blond. Everyone but you. But you’ll be back on the streets in no time.”

Hutch dropped his arm. The effort to raise it seemed to have taken all his strength. Starsky straightened his IV line and patted his uninjured shoulder. 

“H… how bad?” Hutch asked.

“Jardin cut your right arm and that took a whole bunch of stitches. Then he stabbed your shoulder with that shovel thing. That looked a whole lot worse than it was. But you’ll need to work out your shoulder and chest muscles after they heal.”

“Good news, you only got to stay in this joint a few days,” Starsky announced. “Bad news. Desk duty for a month, but we might need that long to go over files and evidence to close the case against Jardin.”

Hutch closed his eyes and shook his head vehemently. 

“No. Your case. Tell Dobey… I… yours.”

Starsky stroked Hutch’s disheveled hair. “Hey, it’s alright, Blondie. You got my back even while you’re out for the count, huh?”

“Lovya, Stars. Hurts. Tired.”

He gave a lopsided smile and answered with his heart. “I love you too, baby. Go back to sleep. Guess I’ll get some more of that cup filler they call coffee. But next time you wake up I want a full sentences outta ya.” 

But Hutch was already asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

The next time Hutch awoke he was still in pain but more clear headed Starsky patiently answered the same questions Hutch was sure he must have asked once before, but he could easily see Starsky’s exhausted state- the gray circles under his eyes, the tenseness around his mouth. Even though the strong hand holding his was his best medicine, Hutch worried about Starsky pushing himself for his sake.

When the nurse came in with pain meds Starsky excused himself to report to Captain Dobey. Hutch insisted that Starsky do so only after taking time to eat and rest. He threw him out till evening visiting hours, all the while secretly wishing he could pull Starsky into his arms and never let go.

Starsky hated leaving Hutch alone. But after retreating to the loving yet sensible concern of his Uncle and a crockpot of still warm chili, with added vitamin L from his Aunt, he succumbed to the comfort of his old bed. And for once, his dreams were pleasant.

ooOOoo

When Starsky pushed open the detective’s squad room door hours later he was greeted by various shouts of welcome, quickly followed by an avalanche of inquiries about the bust, about Hutch and even about his future plans with the department. As much as he missed the man responsible for it all terribly, a warm feeling of belonging welled in his chest and he told the gathered group as much as he was able. 

Babcock gave him a wink as Simmons tagged along with Starsky to the coffee pot like an excited puppy, bringing him up to speed on the stack of evidence the team was accumulating against Jardin. They’d even tracked down his brother, Aster, who’d admitted to getting him away from Keller and Stone and giving him a lift to Bay City. 

Starsky gave Babcock a conspiratorial wink back as he patted Simmons on the head and called him a good boy. Simmons was too involved in his file to notice the zing. 

Starsky had just put his mug down on his desk when Dobey called out to him from his office door. He entered the captain’s sanctum feeling stares from the numerous commendations that hung on the wall. 

“Sit down, son. I just got off the phone with the hospital.” Dobey looked him straight in the eye but his expression was all business, making the man difficult to read. 

Starsky sat.

Dobey didn’t keep him in suspense. No explanations were needed. “Since he’s barred you from his room until tomorrow, the staff let me know he’s continuing to improve. They still need to watch him for signs of infection, but as of right now, he’s sleeping peacefully.”

Starsky leaned forward and rested his palms on his knees, amazed at the amount of tension that left his body at the news. Even though his logic told him Hutch was out of danger, his imagination continued to run wild. Confirmation from his captain somehow made it seem more real. 

“That’s terrific, Captain. Thanks for tellin’ me. I can’t tell ya how worried I've been.”

Dobey nodded as an empathetic smile flashed across his features. “Son, I wasn’t born a captain. I had a partner that was closer to me than a brother. I understand how it is. Plus all you young clowns seem like kids to me. Always in trouble.”

Starsky just smiled in return, sensing how hard it was for the big man to make that admission. Although his captain was still a mystery to Starsky, apparently Starsky was no mystery to him. Maybe someday he’d get hear the story of the captain’s adventures with his own partner. 

Dobey looked down at the ever present notes scattered on his desk then and cleared his throat.

“Babcock informs me that your performance at the scene went above and beyond. You kept your head, despite having a partner down. When we get a conviction, it will be airtight because of you going by the book at the arrest. That’s not something most rookies would be able to boast of, son. I’m glad Hutch talked me into giving you a chance.”

Starsky willed his voice not to give away any more of his emotions than his captain obviously knew. “Thank you, Cap. But it was Hutch…”

Dobey raised a hand. “I know how grateful you are to Hutch. I’ll talk to Hutch when he’s up to it. This is just about you. Babcock also told me it was you who first made the connection between Jardin and his victims. That is outstanding detective work.”

“Thanks, Captain. I just took a lucky guess…”

“No luck to it as far as I see. You saw something the rest of us missed. You looked at pieces of paper and saw people. You read between the lines and fought for their rights to be vindicated. That’s what will make you one of Bay City’s best detectives some day. I feel privileged to be your Captain.”

Starsky grinned from ear to ear as he stood to shake Dobey’s hand. Dobey chuckled deep in his throat and wrapped his beefy hand around Starsky’s. 

“I’m recommending you for two commendations. One for saving your partner’s life and one for breaking this case wide open. Since you’re not actually a detective and were under supervision, the Jardin arrest and conviction will be officially credited to Hutch, but the commendations will be in your file, Starsky. Do you have any objections to that?”

Starsky felt slightly dizzy. “No… no, sir. None at all.”

“Good. Now get out of here. Get some food into you and go see Hutch. Then get a good night’s sleep, because tomorrow you’re going to learn the way to close a case... from me.”

As Starsky turned to go, Dobey added, “And Starsky, close my door… gently. If you knock my pictures off the wall, you’ll find yourself back walking a beat.”

ooOOoo

Starsky stopped by Huggy’s to get a burger and fries and some of Huggy’s delicious cream of chicken and mushroom soup to take to Hutch. The bar was empty since it was a little early for a crowd, so one of the older waitresses, Judy, who had taken a liking to the player piano had it up and running. 

Starsky recognized the song, “It Only Happens,” from when Hutch had played it before. While Judy swirled around the floor swaying with a broom for a dancing partner, Starsky absently played with a French fry, drawing arrow-pierced hearts with his ketchup. It wasn’t hard to guess who he was thinking about. 

“Hey. He’s gonna be alright. Takes more than a evil psycho gardener to take Hutch out.” Huggy observed as he wiped a cloth across the bar.

Starsky popped the crispy fry in his mouth then reached for a napkin. “It ain’t that, Huggy. I know he’ll be back on his feet in a week or two. It’s just that, I coulda lost him. That feelin’ keeps creepin’ up on me.”

He sighed and pushed the plate away. “I should be over the moon happy. I love Hutch and Hutch loves me. Hutch is recovering. Dobey is singin’ my praises. Hell, my Aunt said she’s gonna bake me my favorite cookies if I promise to share them with my poor, brave, wounded partner. So why am I feelin’ like a disaster is about to happen?”

“Maybe it’s just this song. Too melancholy, ya dig? You and Hutch are good. Maybe you are just havin’ a let down after all the excitement. Hey! Judy!” Huggy turned to the waltzing waitress. “Put on somethin’ upbeat. “

Huggy came around the bar pulled Starsky off his stool, dragging him to the piano. “Come on, bro,” he encouraged. They joined Judy in singing the funny little ditty the piano cranked out.

 _All night long he calls her snookey ookum, snookey ookums._  
_All they do is talk like babies._  
_He's her jelly elly roll._  
_She's his sugey ugar bowl._  
_Hear the way they bill and coo, poogywoo,poogywoo. Poogywoo?_

 _All night long he calls her snookey ookums, snookey ookums._  
_All night long the neighbors shout "Cut it out! Cut it out! Cut it out!"_  
_They cry, "For goodness sake don't keep us all awake with your snookey, ookey, ookey , baby talk!"_

Starsky had to laugh at the silly song along with his all-knowing friend. It did make him feel better. After it ended, each of them shared humorous stories of couples who made them cringe with their public displays of affection. Judy, still chuckling, hurried off to get Hutch’s soup to go. She returned with a small white bag with a container of soup and a complimentary cheese biscuit. “Tell him we all miss him and to get better soon,” Judy said as she neatly folded the top of the bag.

ooOOoo

Starsky sauntered down the hospital halls singing to himself. Maybe he’d even try out some of those baby talk names on his own recuperating baby.

 _You’re my jelly elly roll_  
_You’re my sugey ugar bowl_

It was worth a try. If his Hutch was feeling down, he’d give it a go. It was guaranteed to produce at least an eyeroll. He was almost to Hutch’s door when he heard the silky voice he recognized from the phone. Steve Keller. He couldn’t help himself. He stopped and listened.

“When Dobey told me you were stabbed by Jardin, you can’t imagine how I felt. I had to come see you. To see for myself you were alright.”

“I’ll be fine, Steve. You didn’t need to come all the way down here. A call would have been more than enough.”

“You don’t understand. You were my rookie once. My responsibility. That’s hard to get out of my head.”

“Hey! I have another partner. He’s…”

“Yeah, I know. He’s a bouncer! A newbie! You took on someone who might have left you open and vulnerable just to prove a point! And why? Because I couldn’t handle your… your sexuality. You were always a professional, Hutch. We could have worked it out. I should have worked it out with you. That’s what a real man would have done. Not run away. I guess in this case you showed who the real man was.”

“Steve, please.”

“No, Hutch. Hear me out. You were wounded because I wasn’t there. We were meant to take Jardin down together. We always were Bay City’s best team. I see that now. Maybe if I would have stayed, Jardin’s last few victims would still be alive. And your blood wouldn’t be on my hands.”

“You could have died, Hutch,” Steve’s voice continued. “ It’s a miracle you didn’t. What about next time? You might not be so lucky. And it will be my fault. Look Hutch, maybe we should give it another try. I want to be your partner again, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Steve. No, man. It’s not your fault. Come here, Steve.”

Keller’s voice cracked and Starsky knew he was close to crying. Crying over Hutch. Starsky hated himself for listening to Hutch’s private conversations. It seemed to be becoming a bad habit with him. One that always led to heartache. When he heard Hutch’s soft voice comforting Keller, pictured Steve enfolded in Hutch's arms, he couldn’t take any more. He walked to the nurses’ desk and placed his white bag of soup on the desk top. A pleasant faced nurse looked up.

“Would you mind giving this to Detective Hutchinson when his visitor leaves. It’s soup. Tell him the gang at Huggy’s misses him.”

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	12. Chapter 12

“Steve, sit down, please.”

Steve stepped away from Hutch’s bedside and sat stiffly in the molded plastic chair. Hutch sighed and reached for Steve’s hand. He was gratified that for once, Steve didn't pull it awkwardly away. 

“None of this is your fault, buddy. I admit I had a crush on you. But it was childish and unprofessional. I was wrong to think you could ever return my feelings as anything other than a friend - a good one. I should have respected that. But I’m over it. I assure you.”

“Then you’ll take me back as your partner?” Steve asked, a pang of hope in his voice.

“There's something else you need to hear. What if I told you that I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I found someone. Someone who really cares about me the same way I care about them. Someone whose heart just might break if I left. So I’m planning on sticking around.”

“Well that’s great, Hutch. That makes it even more important that I come back. That someone would want your partner to keep you safe.”

“Steve," Hutch hesitated, weighing the look in Steve's eyes, trying to determine if he was really as comfortable with the other side of male sexuality as he said he now was. "That someone is Starsky.”

“What? Dave Starsky? I had no idea he’s. . . .gay. Besides, he’s the reason you’re in this bed!”

“No, Steve. He’s the reason I’m alive. He took down Jardin. Gave me first aid. Got me help. Held my hand in the ambulance. He sat all those long hours in the waiting room waiting for me and he was here when I woke up confused and hurting. I believe he’s a switch hitter and now he’s willing to bat for the other team. He’s the reason I’m alive and . . . my reason for living.”

“Hutch are you sure? I mean you just met this guy, how do you know he’s not just using you to get ahead?”

Hutch smiled and squeezed Steve’s hand again. “You sound like a worried father sending his only daughter to the prom. I appreciate that you still care about me after what I put you through.”

Steve looked him in the eye. “Of course I care… just because…” 

Hutch stopped him, grateful for the honesty. “It’s okay, Steve. I get it.”

Steve bowed his head and nodded.

“But you’re wrong about Starsky. I know he’s the real deal because I picked _him_. In a drunken bet with Huggy," he admitted, not without a tinge of remorse. "I said I could partner anyone and I chose Starsky. That’s before I knew the man behind the facade. Starsky is the strongest, bravest, most kind hearted man I ever met. And a hell of a good detective. He broke the Jardin case. He put it together. Just him. I bless the day I met him. So, you see Steve, you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Steve, tell me something. Do you like Lieutenant Stone?”

“Yeah! He’s a great guy. Probably the best detective I’ve ever served with. He’s a great teacher, too. He has this way of letting me plot my own course and only steps in only if I’m over my head. We get each other, you know? He’s already like a favorite uncle to me. Like family.”

“Do you like San Francisco?”

Steve's face lit up. “Are you kidding? Fantastic food, the Golden Gate Bridge over the bay, diverse neighborhoods and cultures. I love it.”

“Then I think we’ve both found where we belong.” Hutch laid his head back on his pillow. Baring one's soul was hard work.

“You’re a very special person, Ken Hutchinson.” Steve squeezed Hutch’s hand one last time before letting go. He gave his head a shake. His hair fell perfectly back into place as he walked out.

ooOOoo

Four days later Starsky stalked into Huggy’s with a bad attitude balanced right across his shoulder blades. He’d avoided Hutch, Steve and Huggy up until now. Avoiding Hutch was easy. It just meant not going near the hospital. He spent long hours diligently following leads on the Jardin linked cold cases with Dobey. 

Avoiding Steve Keller was a different matter. Steve had stuck around to help tie up loose ends in the investigation, as pesky as gum on sole of Starsky's Adidas. But Starsky found himself aided by none other than Simmons whose position the door allowed him to signal if Steve was around. In which case Starsky would saunter right by the office to hang out by the candy machine. 

Starsky had even avoided Huggy till today. But curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. He still had Hutch’s car. Hutch hadn't called for it probably because Steve Keller was now chauffeuring him around. Still, Starsky couldn't stay away. He had to find out how Hutch was doing and he needed to hear it from a friend. Someone who could tell him more than Hutch’s blood pressure and temperature. 

Starsky looked around. The place had a few customers scattered in groups at the tables and amorous couples snuggling in the cozy booths. Judy was working the foot petals on the player piano as a handsome customer with a beer and a velvet voice sang an old torch song. The song fit Starsky’s blue funk like it was written for him.

_Better luck next time_   
_that could never be._   
_Because there ain’t gonna be no next time_   
_For me - no siree._

_Made up my mind_  
 _to make another start_  
 _I’ve made up my mind but I can’t make up_   
_my heart._

_I’d like a new lucky day_   
_that would be nice._   
_But this comes just once in a lifetime_   
_not twice._

_So don’t say better luck next time  
 _that can never be.  
 _Because there ain’t gonna be no next time  
 _for me.____

___Huggy was on the phone. He looked up as Starsky approached the bar, then quickly finished his conversation and cradled the receiver._ _ _

___“Hey, Hug.”_ _ _

___“Well, lookie what even the cat wouldn’t drag in. I thought you’d become a teetotaler or at least a vegetarian, man.”_ _ _

___Sarcasm he could handle. “I was just wonderin’ if you needed Hutch’s car back for… you know… any reason.”_ _ _

___“Oh. You mean like to pick the poor friendless slob up from the hospital? No. You don’t need to worry about that.”_ _ _

___“I’m sure he’s far from friendless. I suppose his friend Steve is takin’ care of him.”_ _ _

___Huggy put both hands on the bar and glared at Starsky. He shook his head slowly. “Steve’s long gone, man. He was only here to coordinate the Jardin case with Dobey. I think he saw Hutch once. Hutch told me about it. He said Steve was upset Hutch was hurt because he thought no one had his back. Hutch set him straight, told him you guys were tight and sent him back to the streets of San Francisco.”_ _ _

___“He did? Then… then why hasn’t he called for his car?”_ _ _

___“Because he hasn’t been released yet. Seems he took a turn for the worse. Happens when you stop eatin’ and can’t sleep at night and because some mother fucker you loved more than life dumped you without a reason.”_ _ _

___The chip Starsky’d been carrying on his shoulder melted away so suddenly it practically made a puddle on the barroom floor. “Huggy, what do you mean?”_ _ _

___“I mean what I am sayin’ to you. When you became a no show, Hutch figured you dumped him. He figured he scared you away. He thinks he’s too needy, came on to you too hard and too fast. Then he stopped eatin’ and couldn’t rest. He got an infection from that Jardin fucker’s filthy, shit-covered spade. The doc told him something like that might but Hutch just hadn’t wanted to say anything to you about it. He thought you had enough on you plate.”_ _ _

___“But he’s gonna be okay. Right?”_ _ _

___“I don’t know, bro.”_ _ _

___Starsky dropped his head in his hands. “Oh, God, Huggy. I am so stupid. I should have trusted him more. I should have known Hutch would send Steve packin’. What the fuck am I gonna do now?”_ _ _

___Huggy rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do you love him?”_ _ _

___“Of course I do!”_ _ _

___“Then show him.”_ _ _

___TO BE CONTINUED . . ._ _ _


	13. Chapter 13

Hutch looked up with fevered eyes as the door to his room opened. It was probably time to be poked and prodded and pumped full of more medication. The entire business made him feel wiped out, stretched and shaky, like he was fighting a battle he no longer wished to win.

He was surprised to see a teenaged Candy Striper carrying in an exquisite though delicate orchid in an elegant, black ceramic pot.

“Look, Detective. Isn’t it pretty? Yellow is such a cheery color. Too bad it didn't come with a card. You must have a secret admirer.” She smiled as she set the flower pot on the ledge near the window.

Hutch tried to return her smile. Secrets should remain just that. She was too young to have experienced the agonies of a broken heart. After the young girl left, he let himself wonder who might have sent the gift. He had the fleeting hope that it might have been his mother, but he doubted it. They hadn’t spoken since he’d told her his preference to men over women. 

He'd had almost convinced himself that the delivery had been a mistake when he was surprised again a short while later by an orderly toting in a ficus tree with a rattan base. It was at least three foot high and full of lush foliage. Exactly the kind he had always wanted one for his canal house.

“Who sent these?” he asked weakly. His neck ached and he could barely move his sweaty head to look at the gorgeous tree. The orderly just shrugged and offered to move it where Hutch could admire it more easily.

Hutch nodded. He wasn’t so far gone yet that he couldn’t appreciate the small gestures of kindness. 

Later, Dr. Smallwood came bearing gifts at his scheduled visit - brightly wrapped packages with a rainbow of ribbons.

“Detective, these were at the nurses station for you. I thought I’d help you open them. Shall we?”

Hutch merely shrugged. Dr. Smallwood was a kind man with his best interests at heart. The doctor sat on the edge of his bed as he opened box after box of homemade cookies, muffins and fruit dipped in chocolate. He displayed an oatmeal raisin cookie to tempt his recalcitrant patient.

“Well, it seems someone loves you enough to go through all this trouble. There’s no note, though.”

Hutch tentatively nibbled on the offerd cookie. He couldn’t imagine who might love him, but they could certainly bake. Maybe Minnie and the ladies in claims had gotten together and baked for him.

Dr. Smallwood gave him a quick exam and pronounced there was no change in his condition. He was fighting an infection at the sight of the stab wound and his fever was worrisome at 101 degrees. Hutch half-listened to another lecture about eating, resting and keeping his spirits up. He'd started to gain interest in who his secret admirer could possibly be.

As the doctor left, he held the door open for the delivery of a life-like stuffed bunny in a small, blue painted, wooden hutch with an open heart carved in the door. A sign proclaimed it as an authentic Hutch Bunny. 

A bouquet of a dozen rainbow balloons also floated into the room all but covering his floor nurse. “Somebunny loves you!” she announced with almost obnoxious cheerfulness.

When the nurse had arranged all the gifts within Hutch’s reach, he was left alone again once more. 

He tentatively opened the wooden hutch and pulled out the soft, furry brown bunny that lived inside.

Hutch sighed as he petted it, then held it close. He remembered telling Starsky about the rabbits his grandfather kept on his farm when Hutch was a boy. It seemed another lifetime ago.

Hutch’s fevered mind travelled back to the Minnesota spring time when he knew nothing of longing and despair. He closed his eyes and held on tight, willing the soft imitation to give some sort of comfort to his aching heart. Caught up in his memories, he didn’t hear the door open slowly.

“Hum. Maybe I shoulda put myself in a hutch, if I knew you’d react like that. It’s an interestin’ notion.”

Hutch opened his eyes and turned towards the door. “Starsky?”

“Yeah, babe. It’s me. Long time no see, huh?” Starsky approached Hutch with trepidation. Hutch looked weary, battered and ghostly pale. He wanted to hold him and take away his pain, but he didn't know how his embrace would be received.

“Did… did you do all this?” Hutch gestured with his bunny at the many gifts.

“Yeah, I did. How else do you show somebody you love them, huh?”

“Y… you love me? Still?”

“Oh yeah, babe. But I did a really stupid thing. I listened at the door when Steve Keller was here. I didn’t want to come between you and Steve, if that’s what you really wanted. And… I was jealous and hurt.”

“How? How did I hurt you by telling Steve about how much I love you?”

“Well, see, that’s part of the stupidness. I didn’t stay for the grand finale. I got pissed and left. I got pissed and left you all alone. I’m so sorry, Hutch.”

Hutch collapsed back onto the bed and held his bunny in front of his face. “Brown Bunny? He didn’t hear the most important part.”

Starsky sighed. This was going to be hard, but he’d play along no matter how silly it seemed. What Hutch needed, he intended to provide. Starsky moved to the bed and reached out to the bunny.

“Would you tell Hutch I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart?”

Hutch closed his eyes once more and took a labored breath. When he reopened his eyes he murmured, “Brown Bunny? H… he doesn’t trust me. He broke my… heart.”

Starsky sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over Hutch’s. The bunny fell to the side and nestled in the crumpled blanket.

“Don’t say that! I trust you with my life! I love you! I didn’t stop lovin’ you.”

“Starsky, you should have talked to me. I… I never had anyone care enough about me to be jealous. Is this what love is like? I don't know if I want this. Because it hurts like hell, buddy.” 

Starsky leaned in close and smoothed Hutch’s hair back from his forehead. He was warm and sweaty, the usual blond highlights a dingy brown. 

“Shhh, babe. I’m sorry I hurt you. I can only promise to try to do better from now on. Love’s the one thing that covers all the ugliness in the world. We're alright, aren’t we? Or have I screwed up everything?”

Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but then looked away.

“Babe, tell me I haven’t lost you.”

Hutch was drawn back to those sapphire blue eyes and saw his own insecurities reflected like a mirror. They were quite a pair. It was a good thing they loved each other so much.

“Thanks for the presents.” Hutch said shyly, his own eyes beginning to sparkle with mischievousness rather than fever.

Starsky tried not to smile. “You do, huh? Well, If you follow Doc Smallwood’s orders and get better, I'll keep giving them to you.”

“I like plants. Did I tell I have a mini-greenhouse at home?”

Starsky leaned in even closer. “You did mention it once or twice. Ya like to live in a jungle.”

“And the cookies were delicious. Oatmeal raisin is my favorite.”

Starsky could no longer hold back the grin that spilled across his face. “Compliments of my Aunt. I told her what a jerk I was and she put an apron on me and made me bake.”

Now it was Hutch’s turn to smile. “I think I like the bunny best, though. ”

“I thought my Hutch deserved a Hutch Bunny all his own.”

“Your Hutch?”

“Yeah, mine. I love ya and you’ve got my heart. Ya got a problem with that, buddy?”

“N… no. I… I don’t, buddy.”

Starsky’s heart felt as light as a marshmallow peep. He gazed down at the man he loved. He knew what he had to do now.

“What’s all this nonsense I hear about you not tryin’ to get betta? Jeez, Hutch! I can’t leave ya alone for a second. From now on you are eatin’ all your yummy lime jello and gettin’ lots of beauty sleep, or you’re gonna answer to me. What would you do without me, partner?”

“Partner? I don’t even want to find out,” came the sleepy reply.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	14. Chapter 14

Hutch recovered rapidly under Starsky’s tender loving care and persistent nagging. Huggy speculated that the germs must have taken one look at Starsky’s intimidating stare and scattered screaming into the night. 

Starsky cajoled Hutch into eating throughout the day and stayed with him as he fought the fever late at night. Within a few days the two were planning their getaway to Hutch’s place, together.

Hutch was grumpy the morning of his release despite the fact that Starsky had brought in a breakfast burrito specially made to his tastes by Huggy. Starsky palmed the steering wheel of the Galaxie and smoothly as possible pulled into the driveway of the little house by the canal.

“Man, Hutch. Did I tell you I think your place is terrific? You must love all this quiet after a hard day. Hey! Ducks!” he exclaimed as a mother and her ducklings drifted by - serene on the surface yet paddling like hell underneath. 

Hutch gave a half-hearted smile at Starsky's innocent delight. He hoped his partner would think his moodiness was just from worn out by the effort of getting back on his feet, but in truth he was petrified at the step they were about to take. They had avoided it so far, but soon they would be forced to do something that left all men quaking in their boots. Discuss the future of their relationship.

Starsky got out and bounced across the long hood of the car to Hutch’s side and pulled open the door with a flourish. Hutch stuffed back his smile and tried to act annoyed instead.

“Watch the paint job, buddy. This car is a classic.”

Starsky smirked, his response to his moody partner becoming well-honed. “You know the difference between this cah and a porcupine?”

Hutch rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “Nooo.”

“A porcupine carries its pricks on the outside. Come on, let’s get you out of there.”

Hutch repressed chuckle quickly turned to a soft moan as he pulled his long legs out of the car and attempted to stand.

“Easy, blondie. Take your time. Doc said you’d be pretty weak the next coupla days. Lean on me, babe.”

Hutch didn’t know how to handle the love and comfort that seemed to flow from the very pores of this amazing man. It was hard to act churlish with such a friend. Starsky kept a hand and an eye on him even while he fumbled to find the spare key on the lintel and open the door. 

Once inside, Hutch looked around, overwhelmed by the sense that he was finally home. Huggy, Judy, and Starsky himself had been over to water the plants and stock the fridge. The freezer was full of meals for two from Starsky’s aunt and a large tin sat on the freshly cleaned counter. Hutch lifted the lid that was decorated with beribboned geese to find freshly made cookies inside.

"From Minnie," Starsky explained. 

Hutch took in not only the silent homecoming gifts that spoke volumes, but the man beside him proudly showing off all that had been done on his behalf. He felt humbled and suddenly very, very tired.

“Thanks, Starsk. Please, thank everyone for me. The place looks great. But I think I’d like to lay down now. I’m not feeling so hot.” 

Starsky frowned and tightened his hold on Hutch. “Sure, babe. Sorry, I’m a dope. Here I am shootin’ the breeze when you need your rest.”

Starsky led Hutch to the bed, quickly folded back the covers and helped Hutch to sit. When Starsky had arrived at the hospital that morning to pick him up, Hutch had been dressed in a baggy flannel shirt donated by Dobey, the right sleeve pinned up and simply draped over his shoulder. Hutch was still wearing his sling close to his body. Starsky knelt down and removed Hutch’s shoes, then gently rubbed his hand up and down the denim covered legs. 

“You want I should undress you all the way?” Starsky asked hesitantly. He was reminded again that this was nothing like an army fling. He’d never been in a relationship that meant so much to him before and he was second guessing every move. Plus, Hutch was still on medication and sore in spots. Waves of protectiveness washed across him, leaving his thoughts churning. It was overwhelming.

“N...no, babe," Hutch replied. "Just help me lie down for now. Why do hospitals always wear you out? I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.”

Starsky shrugged. “I got a theory that the green jello is actually an alien life form that sucks out all your energy to make more jello, but it’s just a theory. I got no proof… yet.”

Hutch scoffed. “I think you’ve been watching too many old sci-fi movies while you were sitting up with me at night, buddy. But with your detective skills, if it’s true you’ll find out.”

Starsky blushed a bit at the backhanded compliment as he helped Hutch to gently lower himself on the bed. He grabbed an extra pillow and pressed it against Hutch's right side to relieve the pressure on Hutch’s arm and shoulder as he’d seen the nurses do at the hospital. He raised Hutch’s legs and tucked them under the covers, pulling the blankets up to Hutch’s chin. When Hutch looked settled, he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll be right back with your pills,” he told him.

Hutch watched Starsky bounce out of the room. He closed his eyes and a minute later felt his shoulders being lifted by strong arms, pills popped in his mouth, and a water glass pressed gently but firmly against his lips. As he swallowed, he wondered if this was love tasted like. Cool and fresh, quenching a thirst you hadn't known you had. You just took it inside and became part of you. A sigh escaped his lips.

When he opened his eyes Starsky was manhandling Fico the ficus tree into a corner of the bedroom. “Starsk?” 

“Shhh. Go back to sleep. It’s only been a few minutes. There’s a nice sunspot in this corner I think Fico would like and your orchid is watered. See? It's there by your bed watchin’ out for ya.”

“Oh, nice.” Hutch smiled at the yellow blooms bending towards him then closed his eyes once more. A touch of fake fur brushed his good arm. Starsky was close, tucking Brown Bunny under his arm. 

“Guaranteed to keep bad dreams away,” Starsky whispered.

Hutch reached out and held tightly to Starsky’s retreating arm. “Starsk. I… no one’s ever taken care of me like this before. I… don’t…”

Starsky smoothed Hutch’s hair back from his face. “I know, baby. I’m kinda lost here too. Guess we did things bassackwards, falling in love first. But we’ll work it out together. Let me care for you. I’ve never had anyone to care for before. It feels good. Once ya get past how fuckin’ scary it is.”

Hutch chuckled. “You certainly know how to turn a phrase. Pretty accurate too. But, yeah. It’s fuckin’ scary as hell, partner.”

Starsky fussed with the blankets. “I’m gonna work on dinner. You finish your nap. We’ll talk after that, ‘K?”

Hutch closed his eyes and mumbled. “Maybe a long game of monopoly might be better.”

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	15. Chapter 15

Hutch woke to the sensation of delicious warmth down one side of his body and something fuzzy tickling his nose. The fuzzy something smelled like a mixture of citrus and spices. He moved his good arm and it was suddenly full of his partner, gently snoring next to him. 

A separate aroma of something rich and hearty was coming from the kitchen. At first he couldn’t decide which was more appealing, the kitchen or his partner. But then he did.

Hutch gently stroked his partner’s curls and watched with fascination as they sprung back and reached for his fingers like a trusting child. In sleep Starsky looked just like an imp from a nursery rhyme. Full lips and eyelashes fell in dark contrast against the soft rosy skin of his cheek. But this was no child.

Hutch found it hard to believe this enigmatic creature was sharing his bed, even if it was just for a well-deserved nap. He tried to pull himself closer in order to feel more of Starsky’s firm body against his, but he couldn’t withhold a sharp gasp of pain that caused Starsky to awaken immediately.

“You ‘k, babe? I didn’t mean to wake you," Starsky said apologetically as he rolled over to face him. "The beef stew is on a low simmer and you looked so cozy I just hadda sneak in here and get me some Hutch time.”

Hutch carefully smoothed his hand down Starsky’s muscular back. “I’m fine. I like you in my bed. It’s like you’ve always belonged here.”

“I think I do, babe," he agreed, but hunger called. "Ya wanna get up and eat? Or do ya want me to bring you a bowl in here?”

What Hutch wanted was to stay like this forever. But he had to admit he was starving.

“I’d like to get up, Starsk. I need to start moving around. I have to ah, you know. Plus your stew smells fantastic.”

“Yeah?” Starsky jumped up and immediately put his hands behind Hutch’s back to help him rise. Then he threw the covers all the way back and watched as Hutch lowered his legs slowly to the floor. “Wait till you taste it. It’s my own recipe.”

Hutch waited till the pain quieted down and his breathing equaled out before he responded. “You can cook too? What a keeper.”

“Well, I can cook chili and beef stew. And I can grill a mean steak. On special occasions I can make reservations. Other than that it’s takeout pizza time.” Starsky grinned.

After a few false starts and a trip to the bathroom, Hutch was sitting at his dining alcove table attempting to eat the hearty stew with his left hand. It was difficult, but if he went slow most of it managed to reach his mouth. When he was nearly done and feeling comforted, warm and full, he noticed Starsky was also eating with his left.

“You’re a lefty?”

“Sure am. Although I can go both ways. I’m bambidextrous.”

Hutch stopped his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You mean ambidextrous?”

Starsky shrugged. “Whateva. I always figured that's why I'm bisexual, too. I can see both sides of anything.”

Hutch dropped his spoon straight into his bowl and a few droplets of gravy flew out. Would Starsky ever stop being a surprise to him? 

“Whoa there, cowboy. Ya got stew all over your hand. Let me see.” Starsky grabbed a napkin and began wiping off Hutch’s fingers.

Hutch shivered as Starsky held his hand and inspected it for gravy. A vivid image of Starsky licking his fingers clean caught him off-guard and made him blush. 

“There good as new. You finished?” Starsky looked up at him while continuing to hold his hand.

Hutch nodded, not trusting his voice to not squeak.

“I’ll get your next dose of pills and we’ll move this party to the couch. I got ice cream for later if you are a good boy.” 

Starsky watched Hutch take his pills then settled him on the couch. He fussed and struggled with blankets and pillows till he had Hutch chuckling and pulling him down next to him. Starsky cozied up next to him and threw an arm across the back of the couch. “You know, Hutch. I have never been in love before, but I ain’t no virgin if you know what I mean,” he said as he began to play with Hutch’s silky hair. “I’ve been with women and men. When I'm attracted, I'm attracted. Ya dig? Gender never really mattered to me, although I'm not stupid enough to think it's not a big deal for the rest of the world.”

Hutch tried not to be distracted by the magical things Starky’s hand was doing as he was baring his soul. 

“I was in junior high before I realized that not everyone saw the world like I did. I had a rude awakening when I realized that I was different. It was hard to have a crush on a cheerleader and the captain of the team at the same time. But I guess I was luckier than some. While I might have been attracted to a man, I was able to focus elsewhere.”

“I was also very lucky to have my aunt and uncle. See, after my pop died, my ma sent me out here to live with them. I never talked to my ma about stuff like that. She had enough to deal with. But my uncle didn’t freak out when I started to ask questions and told him how I felt. He just said in WWII he had a buddy like me. He said he understood but left it at that. He just told me to stick to women till real love came along in whatever form it took. And I did. Till the army.”

Starsky paused and a shadow fell across his face. Hutch knew he was remembering a dark time and figured it was his turn to talk.

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know I was different. My parents must have known it pretty early, too. I could tell they were disappointed in me. I even got married to try to please them, but it didn't last. I couldn’t live a Iie. When I finally decided to acknowledge the truth, they stopped speaking to me.” 

Starsky winced and his arm instinctively tightened around Hutch as he continued his story. “I did have support from my grandfather, though. He believed in unconditional love and practiced it. But the man never talked about feelings. He preferred silent action.”

“I was never attracted to girls and I was too shy to approach boys. I… I’m not as experienced as you, Starsk. With men, that is. My first was a slightly older guy at Sea Scouts. He was friendly and knowledgeable. His parents were old hippies and accepted him as he was. He was confident, proud, handsome and strong. I was more grateful to have my questions answered and to be treated like I was worth something than I was for the. . . encounter. He was the first to ever call me beautiful and made me believe I was. We fooled around in the dunes of Lake Superior for a summer. Then he was gone.” 

For a few minutes Hutch joined Starsky in reliving the past, but then he shook it off. “After my wife, there've only been few brief midnight encounters in hotels with discrete bars. I’ve mostly had crushes or a crushed heart. You know what happened between me and Steve. But I've trusted anyone enough to give all of myself. You... you're the first for me. I don't want that to change if we . . . you know.” Hutch turned to looked at Starsky, pleading for understanding and acceptance. 

Starsky gently guide his head to his chest, blown away by the honesty of Hutch’s confession. He couldn’t fathom how such a gorgeous man like Hutch could be so insecure and inexperienced. It touched him in deep places he hadn't known.

“Baby, I’d never hurt you. You are so beautiful and I love you with all my heart. We’ll learn together what this love thing is all about, 'kay?”

Hutch smiled and lifted his chin. Starsky gently took it in his hand and guided Hutch’s lips to his own. The kiss tasted of renewal. Like the freshness of spring after a long, lonely winter.

Hutch hummed softly against his lips and Starsky thought he could hear the notes of an old tinny player piano accompanying their growing passion. 

**EPILOGUE**

****Easter Sunday, one year later.** **

****

“Starsk, you know how proud I am of you for passing your detective’s exam with flying colors and I want to celebrate in a really big way. But this?” 

"A promise is a promise. Hutch.” 

Starsky expertly turned his brand new, bright red Gran Torino onto the parade route. 

Hutch crossed his arms, his fading scars the only evidence left of the Jardin case. All other evidence was locked away for life, just like Emile Jardin. Hutch grumbled, “I feel like I’m in a parade float already in this stupid car.” 

“What was that, babe?” 

“Just saying it’s a lovely day for a parade. Starsky, doesn’t it matter to you that I don’t remember this promise?” Hutch regretted his negativity when the smile faded from Starsky’s face. 

“Well, I remember. Every second," Starsky reiterated fiercely. "I’d never been so scared. I had just found you and I came so close to losing you. I promised you if you didn’t leave me, I’d march with you in the Easter Parade. I keep my promises, Hutch.” 

Hutch reached across the shiny black car seat and took his hand, pleased to see a grin replace the frown. “Sorry, babe. I guess I’m a little on edge.” 

“I know.” Starsky pulled into the parking lot designated for police and parade officials. “We talked about outin’ ourselves to our brother cops, Hutch. This is a good way to out ourselves, safely. The chief knows. The mayor knows. Dobey knows and supports us, he’ll make sure no one’s gonna try to separate us. Just think! Me and thee, the first officially sanctioned, openly gay cops in the Bay City P.D.” 

Hutch nodded, Starsky’s enthusiasm over announcing to the whole world that he was Hutch’s partner for life on a bright spring day, won over his heart and squelched his fears. Hutch got out of the Torino and met Starsky around back as he was opening the trunk. Then he groaned. 

“Starsky. You know I love you. I’d do anything you ever asked. I’d kill for you. I’d _die_ for you. I’ll walk in this parade proudly by your side. But I won’t wear the fucking hat!” 

Starsky closed the trunk and turned to him, two flower studded white fedoras in his hand. His lip went into a classic pout and his eyes held a shimmer of crocodile tears. “B...but, Hutch. I made ‘em special.” 

Hutch pointed his finger at Starsky’s face. “Don’t!” 

Starsky sniffled once more. A more pathetic sound he doubted he’d ever heard. 

Hutch caved, like he knew he would, and grabbed a hat. He pulled it on his head with a huff and walked towards the parade route. 

Starsky chuckled and placed his own hat jauntily on his head. He winked at his reflection in his driver’s door mirror and yelled, “Huuuuuth!” as he ran after him. 

_Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet_

 _And of the one I’m taking to the Easter Parade_

**The End**


End file.
